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THE GIANT CITIES OF BASHAN ; 

AND 

SYRIA'S HOLY PLACES. 



LIST OF THE SCHONBERG-COTTA SERIES, 



Crown 8vo, Cloth. Price 6s. 6d. each; or, 12J. Elegantly Bound in Morocco. 



CHRONICLES OF THE SCHONBERG-COTTA FAMILY. 

II. 

SKETCHES OF CHRISTIAN LIFE IN ENGLAND IN THE OLDEN TIME. 
III. 

WANDERINGS OVER BIBLE LANDS AND SEAS. 

IV. 

THE DIARY OF MRS. KITTY TREVYLYAN : A Story of the Times of Whitefield 
and the Wesleys. 

V. 

WINIFRED BERTRAM AND THE WORLD SHE LIVED IN. 

VI. 

THE DRAYTONS AND THE DAVENANTS : A Story of the Civil Wars. 

VII. 

ON BOTH SIDES OF THE SEA : A Story of the Commonwealth and the Restoration. 
VIII. 

poems -.—the women of the Gospels— The three wakings— Songs and 
Hymns— Memorial Verses. 

IX. 

WATCHWORDS FOR THE WARFARE OF LIFE— (From the Writings of Luther). 
X. 

THE MARTYRS OF SPAIN AND THE LIBERATORS OF HOLLAND : The Story 
of the Sisters Dolores and Costanza Cazalla. 

XI. 

DIARY OF BROTHER BARTHOLOMEW, AND OTHER TALES AND SKETCHES 
OF CHRISTIAN LIFE IN DIFFERENT LANDS AND AGES. 

XII. 

THE VICTORY OF THE VANQUISHED. A Tale of the First Century. 

XIII. 

THE COTTAGE BY THE CATHEDRAL AND OTHER PARABLES. \ytistOut. 
XIV. 

THE VOICE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE IN SONG, [Just Out. 



T. NELSON AND SONS, LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK. 



7 



THE V ■ f / .? 



GIANT CITIES OF BASH AN 

AND SYRIA'S HOLY PLACES. " . 





THE 



Giant Cities of Bash an ; 



AND 



SYRIA'S HOLY PLACES. 



. J^By the 
RE V. ft Xi >OR TER, A.M., 

A uthor of " Five Years in Damascus,'" " Murray's Hand-Book for Syria and 
Palestine? " The Pentateuch and the Gospels" &*c. 




LONDON: 
T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW; 

EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK. 
I8 74 . 



\The right of Translation Reserved.] 



J3S/61 
1*7+ 



Exchange 
Western Qnt. Univ. Library 
Feb- 25- 1938 



TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 



Y LORD, — I dedicate this little volume to you 
in grateful acknowledgement of that personal 
friendship with which you have honoured me, 
and as a humble testimony, from one who feels a deep 
interest in Syria's welfare, to those noble exertions which 
your Lordship made to heal the divisions and promote 
the prosperity of that unhappy land. I have good reason 
to know that the wise counsels you gave and the enlight- 
ened policy you advocated, while British Commissioner 
in Syria, secured the esteem and confidence of all parties ; 
and I feel assured that, had the policy which you inaugu- 
rated with such success in the Lebanon been extended 
in the manner you proposed to the whole of Syria, the 
dawn of a bright future would ere this have begun to 
illumine its blood-stained plains and mountains. 

1 have not said much in these pages of that war between 




11 DEDICA TION. 

rival sects which recently desolated some of the fairest 
provinces of Lebanon, nor of those massacres which must 
leave the brand of everlasting infamy alike on those who 
planned, fostered, and perpetrated them. I should per- 
haps have said more had I not expected that they would 
have found an abler historian in "our mutual friend" 
Mr. Cyril Graham. In the absence of fuller details, I am 
happy to be able to insert in an Appendix one or two 
deeply interesting papers from the Rev. Smylie Robson, 
who, as you know, passed through the fearful three days' 
carnage in Damascus. 

I confess that I feel considerable hesitation in placing 
these sketches of Bible lands and Bible story before one 
in every way so competent as your Lordship to detect 
their many imperfections. You will perceive that they 
are fragmentary. I do not attempt a description of all 
Palestine, or of all Syria. I omit many of the most noted 
places, and some of the most celebrated shrines. I do so, 
not because I think their mines of interest and instruc- 
tion have been exhausted ; far from it — I believe there is 
still much, very much, to be done for the illustration of 
the history and language of the Bible by the thoughtful 
and observant traveller. Bible stories are grafted upon 
local scenes ; and, as is always the case in real history, 
these scenes have moulded and regulated, to a greater or 
less extent, the course of events ; consequently, the more 
full and graphic the descriptions of the scenes, the more 
vivid and life-like will the stories become. The imagery 



DEDICA TION. ill 

of Scripture, too, is eminently Eastern : it is a reflec- 
tion of the country. The parables, metaphors, and illus- 
trations of the sacred writers were borrowed from the 
objects that met their eyes, and with which the first 
readers were familiar. Until we become equally familiar 
with those objects, much of the force and beauty of God's 
Word must be lost. The topography of Palestine can 
never be detailed with too great minuteness ; its scenery 
and natural products can never be studied with too much 
care. Bible metaphors and parables take the vividness 
of their own sunny clime when viewed among the hills of 
Palestine ; and Bible history appears as if acted anew 
when read upon its old stage. 

I have not avoided those more familiar localities, then, 
because previous writers have exhausted them, but simply 
because I have been anxious to lead my readers to other 
and less familiar scenes. I had opportunities, during my 
long residence in the East, of visiting regions seldom- 
some of them never before — trodden by European tra- 
vellers. As I could not undertake a survey of all the 
Bible lands over which I wandered, I have thought it best 
to confine myself in this volume to those which appear to 
furnish information in some measure fresh and new. I 
have' passed by Bethlehem and Nazareth, Hebron and 
Jericho, Tiberias and Shechem, that I might linger in 
Philistia and Sharon, Lebanon and Palmyra, Hamath 
and Bashan. 

You will also observe, my Lord, that the book is not a 



IV 



DEDICA TION. 



simple diary of travel ; nor is it a disquisition upon history 
or geography. I have in most cases attempted to group 
together in a popular way the incidents and results of 
two, three, and occasionally many visits to the same 
region, filling in the events of sacred history, and showing 
the customs of primitive life, as illustrated by what passed 
before me. My aim has been to give, as far as possible, 
a complete picture, and to enable my readers to see the 
distant past more clearly through the medium of the 
present. 

During all my journeys the Bible was my constant 
companion. I read its prophecies, as well as its history, 
amid the scenes to which they refer. I could not shut 
my eyes to the graphic details of the Record, nor to the 
ruin and desolations of the land ; and I could not resist 
the conclusions which a careful comparison forced upon 
me. I do not wish, my Lord, to make you in any way 
responsible for these conclusions, or for the views I have 
ventured to express. Free thought and free inquiry, con- 
ducted honestly, and in the case of the Bible reverentially, 
is the right of every man. This, while fully granting it 
to others, I claim for myself. I have in all cases attempted 
to exhibit two pictures, — one of the country, as seen by 
myself; another as sketched by the Hebrew prophets. 
My readers, if not satisfied with my conclusions, can 
draw their own. 

One thing, however, all Eastern travellers must admit 
■ — the perfect harmony between the Bible and the land 



DED1CA TION. 



7 



in which it was written. I have heard your Lordship 
bear noble and eloquent testimony to the fact. Even 
M. Renan, with all his prejudices, saw it, and has ex- 
pressed it in language of equal truth and beauty: "Toute 
cette histoire qui, a distance, semble flotter dans les 
nuages d'un monde sans r^alite, prit ainsi un corps, 
une solidite qui m'dtonnerent. L'accord frappant des 
textes et des lieux, la merveilleuse harmonie de l'id^al 
evangelique avec le paysage qui lui servit de cadre furent 
pour moi comrne une revelation." These are remarkable 
words, which the Biblical student must fully appreciate. 

Permit me, in conclusion, to thank your Lordship for 
this opportunity of paying my hearty, though humble 
tribute to your high talents and distinguished services, 
and to subscribe myself, 



My Lord. 



Yours faithfully and respectfully, 



J. L. PORTER. 



Brandon Towers, Belfast. 
yauuary 1865. 




CONTENTS. 



Bashan and its Giant Cities ., .. .. ., .. .. g 

The Jordan and the Dead Sea .. .. .. 97 

Jerusalem and its Environs — 

I. Jerusalem .. .. .. .. .. nj 

II. The Tombs of the Holy City .. .. .. .. 134 

III. Olivet and Bethany .. .. .. .. .. 153 

IV. The Battle-fields of Gibeon, Ai, and Michmash .. .. 169 

The Land of the Philistines .. .. .. .. 183 

Galilee and the Sea-Coast — 

I. Sharon and Carmel .. .. .. .. 223 

II. Mount Tabor and the Valley of Jezreel .. .. .. .. 239 

.III- The Shrines of Naphtali and Cities of Phoenicia .. .. .. 257 

Northern Border Land — 

I. Lebanon .. .. .. .. .. .. 279 

II. Hamath and the Northern Border of Israel .. ., .. 301 

III. Palmyra .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 321 

IV. Damascus .. ... .. .. .. .. .. 336 

Appendix .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 335 

Texts of Scripture Illustrated or Explained .. .. .. .. 355 

Index .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 369 



I 

I 



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BASHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES, 



! 



§5as{fan anir its (giant Cifas. 



i. 

" All Bashan, unto Salchah and Edrei, cities of the kingdom of Og in Bashan. For only 
Og king of Bashan remained of the remnant of the giants; behold, his bedstead 
was a bedstead of iron; is it not in Rabbath of the children of Amnion 1 nine cubits 

the length thereof, and four cubits the breadth of it, after the cubit of a man 

And the rest of Gilead, and all Bashan, the kingdom of Og, gave I unto the hall 
tribe of Manasseh ; all the region of Argob, with all Bashan, which was called tlu 
land of giants." — Deut. hi. 10-13. 

HISTORICAL NOTICES. 

ASHAN is the land of sacred romance. From the 
remotest historic period down to our own day there 
has ever been something of mystery and of strange 
wild interest connected with that old kingdom. In the memo- 
rable raid of the Arab chiefs of Mesopotamia into Eastern and 
Central Palestine, we read that the " Rephaim in Ashteroth- 
Karnaim" bore the first brunt of the onset. The Rephaim,— 
that is, " the giants," for such is the meaning of the name, — 
men of stature, beside whom the Jewish spies said long after- 
wards that they were as grasshoppers (Num. xiii. 33). These 
were the aboriginal inhabitants of Bashan, and probably of the 
greater part of Canaan. Most of them died out, or were exter- 
minated at a very early period ; but a few remarkable specimens 
of the race — such as Goliath, and Sippai, and Lahmi (1 Chroru 




12 



£ A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



xx.) — were the terror of the Israelites, and the champions of 
their foes, as late as the time of David ; — and, strange to ' say, 
traditionary memorials of these primeval giants exist even now 
in almost every section of Palestine, in the form of graves of 
enormous dimensions, — as the grave of Abel, near Damascus, 
thirty feet long ; that of Seth, in Anti-Lebanon, about the 
same size; and that of Noah, in Lebanon, which measures no 
less than seventy yards! The capital and stronghold of the 
Rephaim in Bashan was Ashteroth-Karnaim ; so called from 
the goddess there worshipped, — the mysterious "two-horned 
Astarte." We shall presently see, if my readers will accompany 
me in my proposed tour, that the cities built and occupied some 
forty centuries ago by these old giants exist even yet. I have 
traversed their streets; I have opened the doors of their houses; 
I have slept peacefully in their long-deserted halls. We shall 
see, too, that among the massive ruins of these wonderful cities 
lie sculptured images of Astarte, with the crescent moon, which 
gave her the name Carnaim, upon her brow. Of one of these 
mutilated statues I took a sketch in the city of Kenath; and 
in the same place I bought from a shepherd an old coin with 
the full figure of the goddess stamped upon it. 

Four hundred years after the incursion of Chedorlaomer and 
his allies, another and a far more formidable enemy, emerging 
from the southern deserts, suddenly appeared on the borders 
of Bashan. Sihon, the warlike king of the Amorites, who reigned 
in Heshbon, had tried in vain to bar their progress. The rich 
plains, and wooded hills, and noble pasture-lands of Bashan 
offered a tempting prospect to the shepherd tribes of Israel. 
They came not on a sudden raid, like the Nomadic Arabs of 
the desert; they aimed at a complete conquest, and a perma- 
nent settlement. The aboriginal Rephaim were now all but 
extinct : " Only Og, king of Bashan, remained of the remnant of 
the giants." The last of his race in this region, he was still 
the ruler of his country; and the whole Amorite inhabitants, 



HISTORICAL NOTICES. 



from Hermon to the Jabbok, and from the Jordan to the desert, 
acknowledged the supremacy of this giant warrior. Og resolved 
to defend his country. It was a splendid inheritance, and he 
would not resign it without a struggle. Collecting his forces, 
he marshalled them on the broad plain before Edrei. We have 
no details of the battle; but, doubtless, the Amorites and their 
leader fought bravely for country and for life. It was in vain ; 
a stronger than human arm warred for Israel. Og's army was 
defeated, and he himself slain. It would seem that the Am- 
monites, like the Bedawin of the present day, followed in the 
wake of the Israeli tish army; and after the defeat and flight of 
the Amorites, pillaged their deserted capital, Edrei, and carried 
off as a trophy the iron bedstead of Og. " Is it not," says the 
Jewish historian, " in Rabbath of the children of Amnion 1 ? nine 
cubits the length thereof, and four cubits the breadth of it, after 
the cubit of a man" (Deut. iii. n). 

The conquest of Bashan, begun under the leadership of Moses 
in person, was completed by Jair, one of the most distinguished 
chiefs of the tribe of Manasseh. In narrating his achievements, 
the sacred historian brings out another remarkable fact con- 
nected with this kingdom of Bashan. In Argob, one of its 
little provinces, Jair took no less than sixty great cities, " fenced 
with high walls, gates, and bars ; besides unwalled towns a great 
many" (Deut. iii. 4, 5, 14). Such a statement seems all but 
incredible. It would not stand the arithmetic of Bishop Co- 
lenso for a moment. Often, when reading the passage, I used 
to think that some strange statistical mystery hung over it; for 
how could a province measuring not more than thirty miles by 
twenty support such a number of fortified cities, especially when 
the greater part of it was a wilderness of rocks? But myste- 
rious, incredible as this seemed, on the spot, with my own eyes, 
I have seen that it is literally true. The cities are there to this 
day. Some of them retain the ancient names recorded in the 
Bible. The boundaries of Argob are as clearly denned by the 
<io) 2 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



hand of nature as those of our own island home. These ancient 
cities of Bashan contain probably the very oldest specimens of 
domestic architecture now existing in the world. 

Though Bashan was conquered by the Israelites, and allotted 
to the half tribe of Manasseh, some of its native tribes were 
not exterminated. Leaving the fertile plains and rich pasture- 
lands to the conquerors, these took refuge in the rocky recesses 
of Argob, and amid the mountain fastnesses of Hermon. " The 
Geshurites and the Maacathites," Joshua tells us, " dwell among 
the Israelites until this day" (xiii. 13). The former made their 
home among the rocks of Argob. David, in some of his strange 
wanderings, met with, and married the daughter of Talmai, 
their chief; and she became the mother of Absalom. The wild 
acts of his life were doubtless, to some extent, the result of 
maternal training; they were at least characteristic of the stock 
from which she sprung. After murdering his brother Amnon, 
he fled to his uncle in Geshur, and found a safe asylum there 
amid its natural fastnesses, until his father's wrath was appeased. 
It is a remarkable fact, — and it shows how little change three 
thousand years have produced on this Eastern land, — that 
Bashan is still the refuge for all offenders. If a man can only 
reach it, no matter what may have been his crimes or his fail- 
ings, he is safe ; the officers of government dare not follow him, 
and the avenger of blood even turns away in despair. During 
a short tour in Bashan, I met more than a dozen refugees, who, 
like Absalom in Geshur, awaited in security some favourable 
turn of events. 

Bashan was regarded by the poet-prophets of Israel as almost 
an earthly paradise. The strength and grandeur of its oaks 
(Ezek. xxvii. 6), the beauty of its mountain scenery (Ps. lxviii. 
15), the unrivalled luxuriance of its pastures (Jer. L 19), the 
fertility of its wide-spreading plains, and the excellence of its 
cattle (Ps. xxii. 12; Micahvii. 14), — all supplied the sacred pen- 
men with lofty imagery. Remnants of the oak forests still clothe 



GEOGRAPHICAL DIVISIONS OF BASH AN. 15 

the mountain-sides; the soil of the plains and the pastures on 
the downs are rich as of yore; and though the periodic raids 
of Arab tribes have greatly thinned the flocks and herds, as 
they have desolated the cities, yet such as remain, — the rams, 
and lambs, and goats, and bulls, — may be appropriately de- 
scribed in the words of Ezekiel, as " all of them fatlings of 
Bashan" (xxxix. 18). 

Lying on an exposed frontier, bordering on the restless and 
powerful kingdom of Damascus, and in the route of the warlike 
monarchs of Nineveh and Babylon, Bashan often experienced 
the horrors of war, and the desolating tide of conquest often 
rolled past and over it. The traces of ancient warfare are yet 
visible, as we shall see, in its ruinous fortresses; and we shall 
also see that it is now as much exposed as ever to the ravages 
of enemies. It was the first province of Palestine that fell 
before the Assyrian invaders; and its inhabitants were the first 
who sat and wept as captives by the banks of the rivers of the 
East. Bashan appears to have lost its unity with its freedom. 
It had been united under Og, and it remained united in posses- 
sion of the half tribe of Manasseh; but after the captivity its 
very name, as a geographical term, disappears from history. 
When the Israelites were taken captive, the scattered remnants 
of the ancient tribes came back, — some from the parched plains 
of the great desert, some from the rocky defiles of Argob, 
and some from the heights and glens of Hermon, — and they 
filled and occupied the whole country. Henceforth the name 
" Bashan" is never once mentioned by either sacred or classic 
writer; but the four provinces into which it was then rent are 
often referred to, — and these provinces were not themselves new. 
Gaulanitis is manifestly the territory of Golan, the ancient Hebrew 
city of refuge; Auranitis is only the Greek form of the Hauran 
of Ezekiel (xlviii. 16); Batanea, the name then given to the 
eastern mountain range, is but a corruption of Bashan; and 
Trachonitis, embracing that singularly wild and rocky district 



1 6 BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 

on the north, is just a Greek translation of the old Argob, " the 
stony." This last province is the only one mentioned in the 
New Testament. It formed part of the tetrachy of Philip, son 
of the great Herod (Luke iii. i). But though Bashan is not 
mentioned by name, it was the scene of a few ot the most inter- 
esting events of New Testament history. It was down the 
western slopes of Bashan's high table-land that the demons, 
expelled by Jesus from the poor man, chased the herd of swine 
into the Sea of Galilee. It was on the grassy slopes of Bashan's 
hills that the multitudes were twice miraculously fed by the 
merciful Saviour. And that " high mountain," to which He led 
Peter, and James, and John, and on whose summit they beheld 
the glories of the transfiguration, was that very Hermon which 
forms the boundary of Bashan. And the sacred history of this 
old kingdom does not end here. Paul travelled through it on his 
way to Damascus; and, after his conversion, Bashan, which then 
formed the principal part of the kingdom of Arabia, was the first 
field of his labours as an apostle of Jesus. " When it pleased God," 
he tells us, " who separated me from my mother's womb, and 
called me by his grace, to reveal his Son in me, that I might preach 
him among the heathen; immediately I conferred not with flesh 
and blood : neither went I up to Jerusalem to them which were 
apostles before me; but I went into Arabia" (Gal. i. 15-17). 
His mission to Arabia, or to Bashan, seems to have been emi- 
nently successful; and that Church, which may be called the 
first-fruits of his labours, made steady progress. In the fourth 
century nearly the whole inhabitants were Christian ; heathen 
temples were converted into churches, and new churches were 
built in every town and village. At that period there were no 
fewer than thirty-three bishoprics in the single ecclesiastical 
province of Arabia. The Christians are now nearly all gone ; 
but their churches, as we shall see, are there still, — two or three 
turned into mosques, but the vast majority of them standing 
desolate in deserted cities. Noble structures some of them 



PATRIARCHAL MANNERS AND CUSTOMS. 17 

are, with marble colonnades and stately porticos, showing us 
alike the wealth and the taste of their founders, and now re- 
maining almost perfect, as if awaiting the influx of a new Chris- 
tian population. There was something to me inexpressibly 
mournful in passing from the silent street into the silent church ; 
and especially in reading, as I often read, Greek inscriptions 
over the doors, telling how such an one, at such a date, had 
consecrated this building, formerly a temple of Jupiter, or Venus, 
or Astarte, as the case might be, to the worship of the Triune 
God, and had called it by the name of the blessed saint or 
martyr So-and-so. Now there are no worshippers in those 
churches; and the people who for twelve centuries have held 
supreme authority in the land, have been the constant and ruth- 
less persecutors of Christians and Christianity. But their power 
is on the wane; their reign is well-nigh at an end; and the time 
is not far distant when Christian influence, and power, and 
industry, shall again repeople the deserted cities, and fill the 
vacant churches, and cultivate the desolate fields of Palestine. 

The foregoing notices will show my readers that Bashan is, 
in many respects, among the most interesting of the provinces 
of Palestine. It is comparatively unknown, besides. Western 
Palestine is traversed every year ; it forms a necessary part of 
the Grand Tour, and it has been described in scores of volumes. 
But the travellers who have hitherto succeeded in exploring 
Bashan scarcely amount to half-a-dozen ; and the state of the 
country is so unsettled, and many of the people who inhabit it 
are so hostile to Europeans, and, in fact, to strangers in general, 
that there seems to be but little prospect of an increase of 
tourists in that region. This very isolation of Bashan added 
immensely to the charm and instructiveness of my visit. Both 
land and people remain thoroughly Oriental. Nowhere else is 
patriarchal life so fully or so strikingly exemplified. The social 
state of the country and the habits of the people are just what 
they were in the days of Abraham or Job. The raids of the 



1 8 B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 

eastern tribes are as frequent and as devastating now as they 
were then. The flocks of a whole village are often swept away 
in a single incursion, and the fruits of a whole harvest carried 
off in a single night. The arms used are, with the exception 
of a few muskets, similar to those with which Chedorlaomer 
conquered the Rephaim. The implements of husbandry, too, 
are as rude and as simple as they were when Isaac cultivated 
the valley of Gerar. And the hospitality is everywhere as 
profuse and as genuine as that which Abraham exercised in his 
tents at Mamre. I could scarcely get over the feeling, as I 
rode across the plains of Bashan and climbed the wooded hills 
through the oak forests, and saw the primitive ploughs and 
yokes of oxen and goads, and heard the old Bible salutations 
given by every passer-by, and received the urgent invitations to 
rest and eat at every village and hamlet, and witnessed the 
killing of the kid or lamb, and the almost incredible despatch 
with which it is cooked and served to the guests, — I could 
scarcely get over the feeling, I say, that I had been somehow 
spirited away back thousands of years, and set down in the land 
of Nod, or by the patriarch's tents at Beersheba. Common 
life in Bashan I found to be a constant enacting of early Bible 
stories. Western Palestine has been in a great measure spoiled 
by travellers. In the towns frequented by tourists, and in their 
usual lines of route, I always found a miserable parody of 
Western manners, and not unfrequently of Western dress and 
language ; but away in this old kingdom one meets with nothing 
in dress, language, or manners, save the stately and instructive 
simplicity of patriarchal times. 

Another peculiarity of Bashan I cannot refrain from com- 
municating to my readers. The ancient cities and even the 
villages of Western Palestine have been almost annihilated; 
with the exception of Jerusalem, Hebron, and two or three 
others, not one stone has been left upon another. In some 
cases we can scarcely discover the exact spot where a noted 



A NCIENT HO USES. 



city stood, so complete has been the desolation. Even in 
Jerusalem itself only a very few vestiges of the ancient buildings 
remain : the Tower of David, portions of the wall of the Temple 
area, and one or two other fragments,— just enough to form the 
subject of dispute among antiquaries. Zion is " ploughed like 
a field." I have seen the plough at work on it, and with the 
hand that writes these lines I have plucked ears of corn in the 
fields of Zion. I have pitched my tent on the site of ancient 
Tyre, and searched, but searched in vain, for a single trace of 
its ruins. Then, but not till then, did I realize the full force 
and truth of the prophetic denunciation upon it : " Thou shalt 
be sought for, yet shalt thou never be found again " (Ezek. xxvi. 21). 
The very ruins of Capernaum — that city which, in our Lord's 
day, was " exalted unto heaven" — have been so completely obli- 
terated, that the question of its site never has been, and probably 
never will be, definitely settled. And these are not solitary 
cases: Jericho has disappeared; Bethel is "come to nought" 
(Amos v. 5); Samaria is "as an heap of the field, as plantings 
of a vineyard " (Micah i. 6). The state of Bashan is totally 
different : it is literally crowded with towns and large villages ; 
and though the vast majority of them are deserted, they are not 
ruined. I have more than once entered a deserted city in the 
evening, taken possession of a comfortable house, and spent 
the night in peace. Many of the houses in the ancient cities 
of Bashan are perfect, as if only finished yesterday. The walls 
are sound, the roofs unbroken, the doors, and even the window- 
shutters in their places. Let not my readers think that I am 
transcribing a passage from the " Arabian Nights." I am relate 
ing sober facts ; I am simply telling what I have seen, and what 
I purpose just now more fully to describe. " But how," you 
ask me, " can we account for the preservation of ordinary 
dwellings in a land of ruins'? If one of our modern English 
cities were deserted for a millennium, there would scarcely be a 
fragment of a wall standing." The reply is easy enough. The 



20 



BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



houses of Bashan are not ordinary houses. Their walls are from 
five to eight feet thick, built of large squared blocks of basalt ; 
the roofs are formed of slabs of the same material, hewn like 
planks, and reaching from wall to wall ; the very doors and 
window- shutters are of stone, hung upon pivots projecting above 
and below. Some of these ancient cities have from two to 
five hundred houses still perfect, but not a man to dwell in 
them. On one occasion, from the battlements of the Castle of 
Salcah, I counted some thirty towns and villages, dotting the 
surface of the vast plain, many of them almost as perfect as 
when they were built, and yet for more than five centuries there 
has not been a single inhabitant in one of them. It may easily 
be imagined with what feelings I read on that day, and on that 
spot, the remarkable words of Moses : " The generation to come 
of your children that shall rise up after you, and the stranger that 
shall come from a far la?id, shall say when they see the plagues 
of this land, even all nations shall say, Wherefore hath the Lord 
done this unto this land 1 what meaneth the heat of this great 
anger?" 

My readers are now prepared, I trust, to make a pleasant and 
profitable excursion to the giant cities of Bashan. I shall 
promise not to make too large a demand upon their time and 
patience, and yet to give them a tolerably clear and full view of 
one of the most interesting countries in the world. 

THE CARAVAN. 

On a bright and balmy morning in February, a party of seven 
cavaliers defiled from the East Gate of Damascus, rode for half- 
an-hour among the orchards that skirt the old city, and then, 
turning to the left, struck out, along a broad beaten path through 
the open fields, in a south-easterly direction. The leader was 
a wild-looking figure. His dress was a red cotton tunic or shirt, 
fastened round the waist by a broad leathern girdle. Over it 
was a loose jacket of dressed sheepskin, the wool inside. His 



OUR ARAB GUIDE. 



21 



feet and legs were bare. On his head was a flame-coloured 
handkerchief, fastened above by a coronet of black camel's 
hair, which left the ends and long fringe to flow over his 
shoulders. He was mounted on an active, shaggy pony, with 
a pad for a saddle, and a hair halter for a bridle. Before him, 
across the back of his little steed, he carried a long rifle, his 
only weapon. Immediately behind him, on powerful Arab 
horses, were three men in Western costume : one of these was 
the writer. Next came an Arab, who acted as dragoman or 
rather courier ; and two servants on stout hacks brought up 
the rear. On gaining the beaten track, our guide struck into 
a sharp canter. The great city was soon left far behind, and, 
on turning, we could see its tall white minarets shooting up from 
the sombre foliage, and thrown into bold relief by the dark 
background of Anti-Lebanon. The plain spread out on each 
side, smooth as a lake, covered with the delicate green of the 
young grain. Here and there were long belts and large clumps 
of dusky olives, from the midst of which rose the gray towers 
of a mosque or the white dome of a saint's tomb. On the 
south the plain was shut in by a ridge of black, bare hills, 
appropriately named Jebel-el-Aswad, " the Black Mountains 
while away on the west, in the distance, Hermon rose in all 
its majesty, a pyramid of spotless snow. From whatever 
point one sees it, there are few landscapes in the world which, 
for richness and soft enchanting beauty, can be compared with 
the plain of Damascus. 

After riding about seven miles, during which we passed 
straggling groups of men — some on foot, some on horses and 
donkeys, and some on camels, most of them dressed like our 
guide, and all hurrying on in the same direction as ourselves — 
we reached the eastern extremity of the Black Mountains, and 
found ourselves on the side of a narrow green vale, through the 
centre of which flows the river Pharpar. A bridge here spans 
the stream ; and beyond it, in the rich meadows, the Haur&n 



22 



BASHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



Caravan was being marshalled. Up to this point the road is 
safe, and may be travelled almost at any time ; but on crossing 
the Awaj, we enter the domains of the Bedawin, whose law is 
the sword, and whose right is might. Our further progress was 
liable to be disputed at any moment. The attacks of the 
Bedawin, when made, are sudden and impetuous ; and resist- 
ance, to be effectual, must be prompt and decided. During the 
winter season, this eastern route is in general pretty secure, as 
the Arab tribes have their encampments far distant on the banks 
of the Euphrates, or in the interior of the desert ; but the war 
between the Druses and the government, which had just been 
concluded, had drawn these daring marauders from their 
customary haunts, and they endured the rain and cold of the 
Syrian frontier in the hope of plunder. All seemed fully aware 
of this, and appeared to feel, here as elsewhere, that the hand 
of the Ishmaelite is against every man. Consequently, stragglers 
hurried up and fell into the ranks ; bales and packages on mules 
and camels were re-arranged and more carefully adjusted ; 
muskets and pistols were examined, and cartridges got into a 
state of readiness ; armed men were placed in something like 
order along the sides of the file of animals ; and a few horsemen 
were sent on in front, to scour the neighbouring hills and the 
skirts of the great plain beyond, so as to prevent surprise. A 
number of Druses who here joined the caravan, and who were 
easily distinguished by their snow-white turbans, and bold, manly 
bearing, appeared to take the chief direction in these warlike 
preparations, though, as the caravan was mainly made up of 
Christians, one of themselves, called Musa, was the nominal 
leader. It was a strange and exciting scene, and one would 
have thought that any attempt to reduce such a refractory and 
heterogeneous multitude of men and animals to anything like 
order would be absolutely useless. Some of the camels and 
donkeys breaking loose, scattered their loads over the plain, 
and spread confusion all round them ; others growled, and 



STARTING OF THE CARAVAN. 



23 



kicked, and brayed ; drivers shouted and gesticulated ; men 
and boys ran through the crowd, asking for missing brothers 
or companions ; horsemen galloped from group to group, en- 
treating and threatening by turns. At length, however, the 
order was given to march. It passed along from front to rear, 
and the next moment every sound was hushed ; the very beasts 
seemed to comprehend its meaning, for they fell quietly into 
their places, and the long files, now four and five abreast, be- 
gan to move over the grassy plain with a stillness which was 
almost painful. 

Leaving the fertile valley of the Pharpar, and crossing a low, 
bleak ridge, we entered one of the dreariest regions I had 
hitherto seen in Syria. A reach of rolling table-land extended 
for several miles on each side — shut in on the right by black 
hills, and on the left, by bare rugged banks. Not a house, nor 
a tree, nor a green shrub, nor a living creature, was within the 
range of vision. Loose black stones and boulders of basalt 
were strewn thickly over the whole surface, and here and there 
thrown into rude heaps ; but whether by the hand of man, or 
by some freak of nature, seemed doubtful. For nearly two 
hours we wound our weary way through this wilderness ; now 
listening to the stories of Musa, and now following him to the 
top of some hillock, in the hope of getting a peep at a more 
inviting landscape. At length we came to the brow of a short 
descent leading into a green meadow, with the traces of an old 
camp at one side round a little fountain, near which were some 
tombs with rude headstones. We were told that this is a 
favourite camping-ground of the Anezeh during the spring. 
Immediately beyond the meadow a plain opened up before us, 
stretching on the east and west far as the eye could see, and 
southward reaching to the base of the Hauran mountains. It is 
flat as a lake, covered with deep, rich, black soil, without rock 
or stone, and, even at this early season, giving promise of 
luxuriant pasturage. Some conical tells are seen at intervals, 



2 4 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



rising up from its smooth surface, like rocky islets in the ocean. 
This is the plain of Bashan, and though now desolate and for- 
saken, it showed us how rich were the resources of that old 
kingdom. 

With increased speed — but still in the deepest silence — the 
caravan swept onward over this noble plain. We could scarcely 
distinguish any track, though Musa assured us we were on the 
Sultany, or "king's highway." It seemed to us that his course 
was directed by a conical hill away on the southern horizon, 
rather than by any trace of a road on the plain itself. As we 
advanced, we began to notice a black line extending across trie 
plain, in the distance in front. Gradually it became more and 
more defined, and, ere daylight waned, it seemed like a Cyclo- 
pean wall built in some bygone age, and afterwards shattered 
by an earthquake. Riding up to Musa, I asked what it was. 
" That," said he, " is the Lejah." Lejah is the name now given 
to the ancient province of Trachonitis ; and this bank of shat- 
tered rocks turned out to be its northern border. The Lejah, 
as we shall see hereafter, is a vast field of basalt, placed in the 
midst of the fertile plain of Bashan. Its surface has an eleva- 
tion of some thirty feet above the plain, and its border is every- 
where as clearly defined by the broken cliffs as any shore-line. 
In fact, it strongly reminded me of some parts of the coast of 
Jersey. And this remarkable feature has not been overlooked 
in the topography of the Bible. Lejah, my readers will re- 
member, corresponds to the ancient Argob. Now, in every 
instance in which that province is mentioned by the sacred 
historians, there is one descriptive word attached to it — chebel; 
which our translators have unfortunately rendered in one pas- 
sage "region," and in another, "country" (Deut. iii. 4, 13, 14; 
1 Kings iv. 13), but which means "a sharply-defined border, as 
if measured off by a rope" {chebel); and it thus describes, with 
singular accuracy and minuteness, the rocky rampart which 
encircles the Lejah. 



THE HALT OF THE CARAVAN. 



*5 



THE DESERTED CITY. 

The sun went down, and the short twilight was made shorter 
by heavy clouds which drifted across the face of the sky. A 
thick rain began to fall, which made the prospect of a night 
march or a bivouac equally unpleasant. Still I rode on through 
the darkness, striving to dispel gloomy forebodings by the 
stirring memory of Bashan's ancient glory, and the thought that 
I was now treading its soil, and on my way to the great cities 
founded and inhabited four thousand years ago by the giant 
Rephaim. Before the darkness set in, Musa had pointed out 
to me the towers of three or four of these cities rising above the 
rocky barrier of the Lejah. How I strained my eyes in vain to 
pierce the deepening gloom ! Now I knew that some of them 
must be close at hand. The sharp ring of my horse's feet on 
pavement startled me. This was followed by painful stumbling 
over loose stones, and the twisting of his limbs among jagged 
rocks. The sky was black overhead ; the ground black beneath ; 
the rain was drifting in my face, so that nothing could be seen. 
A halt was called ; and it was with no little pleasure I heard the 
order given for the caravan to rest till the moon rose. " Is there 
any spot," I asked of an Arab at my side, " where we could get 
shelter from the rain V " There is a house ready for you," he 
answered. " A house ! Is there a house here V " Hundreds 
of them; this is the town of Burak." We were conducted up 
a rugged winding path, which seemed, so far as we could make 
out in the dark and by the motion of our horses, to be some- 
thing like a ruinous staircase. At length the dark outline of 
high walls began to appear against the sky, and presently we 
entered a paved street. Here we were told to dismount and 
give our horses to the servants. An Arab struck a light, and, 
inviting us to follow, passed through a low, gloomy door, into 
a spacious chamber. 

I looked with no little interest round the apartment of which 



25 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES, 



we had taken such unceremonious possession; but the light was 
so dim, and the walls, roof, and floor so black, that I could make 
out nothing satisfactorily. Getting a torch from one of the ser- 
vants I lighted it, and proceeded to examine the mysterious 
mansion \ for, though drenched with rain, and wearied with a 
twelve hours' ride, I could not rest. I felt an excitement such 
as I never before had experienced. I could scarcely believe in 
the reality of what I saw, and what I heard from my guides in 
reply to eager questions. The house seemed to have undergone 
little change from the time its old master had left it ; and yet 
the thick nitrous crust on the floor showed that it had been 
deserted for long ages. The walls were perfect, nearly five feet 
thick, built of large blocks of hewn stones, without lime or 
cement of any kind. The roof was formed of large slabs of the 
same black basalt, lying as regularly, and jointed as closely, as 
if the workmen had only just completed them. They measured 
twelve feet in length, eighteen inches in breadth, and six inches 
in thickness. The ends rested on a plain stone cornice, pro- 
jecting about a foot from each side wall. The chamber was 
twenty feet long, twelve wide, and ten high. The outer door 
was a slab of stone, four and a half feet high, four wide, and 
eight inches thick. It hung upon pivots, formed of prpjecting 
parts of the slab, working in sockets in the lintel and threshold j 
and though so massive, I was able to open and shut it with ease. 
At one end of the room was a small window with a stone shutter. 
An inner door, also of stone, but of finer workmanship, and not 
quite so heavy as the other, admitted to a chamber of the same 
size and appearance. From it a much larger door communicated 
with a third chamber, to which there was a descent by a flight 
of stone steps. This was a spacious hall, equal in width to the 
two rooms, and about twenty-five feet long by twenty high. A 
semicircular arch was thrown across it, supporting the stone 
roof; and a gate so large that camels could pass in and out, 
opened on the street. The gate was of stone, and in its place ; 



THE DESERTED CITY. 



27 



but some rubbish had accumulated on the threshold, and it 
appeared to have been open for ages. Here our horses were 
comfortably installed. Such were the internal arrangements 
of this strange old mansion. It had only one story ; and its 
simple, massive style of architecture gave evidence of a very 
remote antiquity. On a large stone which formed the lintel of 
the gateway, there was a Greek inscription ; but it was so high 
up, and my light so faint, that I was unable to decipher it, though 
I could see that the letters were of the oldest type. It is pro- 
bably the same which was copied by Burckhardt, and which 
bears a date apparently equivalent to the year B.C. 306 ! 

Owing to the darkness of the night, and the shortness of our 
stay, I was unable to ascertain, from personal observation, either 
the extent of Burak, or the general character of its buildings ; 
but the men who gathered round me, when I returned to my 
chamber, had often visited it. They said the houses were all 
like the one we occupied, only some smaller, and a few larger, 
and that there were no great buildings. Burak stands on the 
north-east corner of the Lejah, and was thus one of the frontier 
towns of ancient Argob. It is built upon rocks, and encom- 
passed by rocks so wild and rugged as to render it a natural 
fortress. 

After a few hours' rest the order for march was again given. 
We found our horses at the door, and mounting at once we 
followed Musa. The rain had ceased, the sky was clear, and 
the moon shone brightly, half revealing the savage features of 
the environs of Burak. I can never forget that scene. Huge 
masses of shapeless rock rose up here and there among and 
around the houses, to the height of fifteen and twenty feet — 
their summits jagged, and their sides all shattered. Between 
them were pits and yawning fissures, as many feet in depth ; 
while the flat surfaces of naked rock were thickly strewn with 
huge boulders of basalt. The narrow tortuous road by which 
Musa led us out was in places carried over chasms, and in places 



23 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



cut through cliffs. An ancient aqueduct ran alongside it, which, 
in former days, conveyed a supply of water from a neighbouring 
winter stream to the tanks and reservoirs from which the town 
gets its present name, Burak ("the tanks"). A slow but 
fatiguing ride of an hour brought us out of this labyrinth of 
rocks, and over a torrent bed into a fine plain. We soon after 
passed the caravan, which had started some time before us ; 
and, as there was no danger to be apprehended, we continued 
at a rapid pace southward. The dawn of morning showed us 
the rugged features and rocky border of the Lejah close upon 
our right, thickly studded with old towns and villages ; while 
upon our left a fertile plain stretched away to the horizon. And 
here we observed with surprise, that there was not a trace of 
human habitation, except on the tops of the little conical hills 
which rise up at long intervals. This plain is the home of the 
Ishmaelite, who has always dwelt " in the presence (literally, in 
the face) of his brethren " (Gen. xvi. 1 2), and against whose bold 
incursions there never has been any effectual barrier except the 
munitions of rocks and the heights of hills. 

We rode on. The hills of Bashan were close in front ; their 
summits clothed with oak forests, and their sides studded with 
old towns. As we ascended them, the rock-fields of the Lejah 
were spread out on the right ; and there, too, the ancient cities 
were thickly planted. Not less than thirty of the threescore 
cities of Argob were in view at one time on that day; their black 
houses and ruins half concealed by the black rocks amid which 
they are built, and their massive towers rising up here and there 
like the " keeps " of old Norman fortresses. How we longed 
to visit and explore them ! But political reasons made it 
necessary we should, in the first place, pay our respects to one 
of the leading Druse chiefs. On them depended the success of 
our future researches. Without their protection we could not 
ride in safety a single mile through Hauran. I felt confident 
that protection would be cheerfully granted ; still I thought it 



SCENERY OF BASH AN. 



29 



best not to draw bridle until we reached the town of Hiyat, 
from whence, after a short pause to drink coffee with the Sheikh, 
who would not let us pass, we rode to the residence of Asad 
Amer, at Hit, where we met with a reception worthy of the 
hospitality of the old patriarchs. 



II. 

" Once more we look, and all is still as night, 
All desolate ! Groves, temples, palaces, 
Swept from the sight : and nothing visible, 

save here and there 

An empty tomb, a fragment like a limb 
Of some dismembered giant," 

SCENERY OF BASHAN. 

With the first dawn of the new morning I went up to the 
flat roof of Sheikh Assad's house. The house is in the 
highest part of the town, and commands a wide view of the 
northern section of the mountain range and of the surround- 
ing plain. The sky was cloudless, and of that deep dark 
blue which one never sees in this land of clouds and haze. 
The rain of the preceding day had cleared the atmosphere, 
and rendered it transparent as crystal. The sun was not yet 
up, but his beams shed a rich glow over the whole eastern 
sky, making it gleam like burnished gold, and throwing out 
into bold relief a ridge of wood-clad peaks that here shut in the 
view. From the base of the mountain on the north, a smooth 
plain, already green with young grass, extended away beyond 
the range of vision, dotted here and there with conical tells, on 
whose tops were the remains of ancient fortresses and villages. 
But on the west lay the objects of chief interest ; the wide- 
spread rock-fields of Argob, the rich pasture-lands of Bashan 
encircling them, and running away in one unbroken expanse to 
the base of Hermon. Long and intently did my eyes dweli on 

(10) 3 



30 BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 

that magnificent landscape. Now, the strange old cities rivetted 
my attention, rising up in gloomy grandeur from the sea of 
rocks. Now the great square towers and castellated heights 
and tells along the rugged border of Argob were minutely 
examined by the help of a powerful glass; and now the eye 
wandered eagerly over the plain beyond, noting one, and an- 
other, and another of those dark cities that stud it so thickly. 
On the western horizon rose Hermon, a spotless pyramid of 
snow; and from it, northward, ran the serried, snow-capped 
ridge of " Lebanon toward the sun-rising" (Josh. xiii. 5). As I 
looked on that western barrier of Bashan, the first sunbeams 
touched the crest of Hermon; and as they touched it, its icy 
crown glistened like polished steel, reminding me how strikingly 
descriptive was the name given to that mountain by the Amor- 
ites — Shenir, the " breastplate," or " shield " (Deut. iii. 9). 

For an hour or more I sat wrapped in the contemplation of 
the wide and wondrous panorama. At least a thousand square 
miles of Og's ancient kingdom were spread out before me. 
There was the country whose "giant" (Rephaim, Gen. xiv.) 
inhabitants the eastern kings smote before they descended into 
the plain of Sodom. There were those " three score great 
cities" of Argob, whose "walls, and gates, and brazen bars" 
were noted with surprise by Moses and the Israelites, and whose 
Cyclopean architecture and massive stone gates even now fill 
the western traveller with amazement, and give his simplest 
descriptions much of the charm and strangeness of romance. 
So clear was the air that the outline of the most distant objects 
was sharp and distinct. Hermon itself, though forty miles 
away, did not seem more than eight or ten, when the sun em- 
bossed its furrowed sides with light and shade. 

I was at length roused from a pleasing reverie by the deep voice 
of Sheikh Assad giving a cordial and truly patriarchal salutation. 

" What a glorious view you have from this commanding spot!" 
I said, when the compliments were over. 



THE BED A WIN. 



" Yes, we can see the Bedawin at a great distance, and have 
time to prepare for them," was his characteristic reply. 

" What ! do the desert tribes, then, trouble you here ; and 
do they even venture to plunder the Druses?" 

" Not a spot of border land from Wady Musa to Aleppo is 
safe from their raids, and Druses, Moslems, and Christians are 
alike to them. In fact, their hand is against all. When the 
Anezeh come up in spring, their flocks cover that plain like 
locusts, and were it not for our rifles they would not leave us a 
hoof nor a blade of corn. To-day their horsemen pillage a 
village here ; to-morrow, another in the Ghutah of Sham (Damas- 
cus); and the day following they strip the Baghdad caravan. 
Oh, my lord ! these sons of Ishmael are fleet as gazelles, and 
fierce as leopards. Would Allah only rid us of them and the 
Turks, Syria might prosper." 

The Sheikh described the Arabs to the life, just as they were 
described by the spirit of prophecy nearly four thousand years 
ago. " He (Ishmael) shall be a wild man ; his hand against 
every man, and every man's hand against him; and he shall 
dwell in the presence of all his brethren" (Gen. xvi. 12). These 
" children of the east" come up now as they did in Gideon's 
days, when " they destroyed the increase of the earth, and left 
no sustenance for Israel, neither sheep, nor ox, nor ass. For 
they came up with their cattle and their tents, and they came 
as grasshoppers for multitude ; both they and their camels were 
without number; and they entered into the land to destroy it" 
(Judges vi. 4, 5). During the course of another tour through 
the western part of Bashan, I rode in one day for more than 
twenty miles in a straight course through the flocks of an Arab 
tribe. 

On remarking to the Sheikh the great number of old cities in 
view, he pointed out to me the largest and most remarkable of 
them ; and among these I heard with no little interest, the name 
of Edrei, the ancient capital of Bashan, and the residence of 



BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



Og, the last of its giant-kings. Others there were too, such a3 
Shuka, and Bathanyeh, and Musmieh, whose names, as we shall 
see, are not unknown in history. 

From a general survey of the country I turned to an examina- 
tion of the town. Hit is in form rectangular, and about a mile 
and a half in circumference. I traced most of the old streets, 
though now in a great measure filled up with fallen houses and 
heaps of rubbish, the accumulations of long centuries. The 
streets were narrow and irregular, and thus widely different from 
those laid out in many other cities in this land by Roman archi- 
tects. A large portion of the town is ruinous ; but some of the 
very oldest houses are still perfect. They are simple and 
massive in style, containing only one story, and generally two 
or three large rooms opening on an enclosed court. The walls 
are built of large stones roughly hewn, though closely jointed, 
and laid without cement. The roofs are formed of long slabs 
placed horizontally from wall to wall; thus forming the flat 
" house tops," where the people are now accustomed to sit and 
pray, just as they were in New Testament times. Indeed, the 
" house-top" is the favourite prayer-place of Mohammedans in 
Syria (see Acts x. 9; Matt. xxiv. 17; Isa. xv. 3; Zeph. i. 5). 
The doors are stone, and I saw many tastefully ornamented 
with panels and garlands of fruit and flowers sculptured in relief. 
There is not a single new, or even modern, house in Hit. The 
Druses have taken possession and settled down without any 
attempt at alteration or addition. Those now occupied are 
evidently of the most remote antiquity, and not more than half 
of the habitable dwellings are inhabited. I saw the remains of 
several Greek or Roman temples, and a considerable number 
of Greek inscriptions on the old houses, and on loose stones. 
The inscriptions have no historic value, being chiefly votive 
and memorial tablets : two of them have dates corresponding 
to a.d. 120, and a.d. 208. Nothing is known of the history of 
Hit; we cannot even tell its ancient name; but its position, the 



AQUEDUCTS. 



33 



character of its houses and of its old massive ramparts, seem to 
warrant the conclusion that it was one of those " three score 
great cities" which Jair captured in Argob (Deut. hi. 4, 14). 

The news of our arrival had already reached Sheikh Tares, 
the elder brother of our host, and one of the most powerful 
chiefs in Hauran. While we sat at breakfast a messenger 
arrived with an urgent request that we should visit him and 
spend the night at his house in Shuhba. We gladly consented ; 
and as that town is only four miles south of Hit, we resolved to 
employ the day in exploring the northern section of the moun- 
tain range. Our horses were soon at the door. Sheikh Assad 
supplied an active, intelligent, and well-mounted guide, and his 
own nephew, a noble-looking youth of one-and-twenty, volun- 
teered his services as escort. Mounting at once, amid the 
respectful salams of a crowd of white-turbaned Druses, we rode 
off northward in the track of an old Roman road. Finely-cul- 
tivated fields skirted our path for some distance, already green 
with young wheat, and giving promise of luxuriance such as is 
seldom seen in Palestine. The day was bright and cool, the 
ground firm and smooth, our horses fresh, and our own spirits 
high. Our new companions, too, were eager to display the 
mettle of their steeds, and their unrivalled skill in horsemanship. 
So, loosening the rein, we dashed across the gentle slopes, and 
only drew bridle on reaching Bathanyeh, about four miles from 
Hit. Along our route for a mile and more, we observed the 
openings of a subterranean aqueduct, intended in former days 
to supply the city with water. Such aqueducts are common on 
the eastern border of Syria and Palestine, especially in Hauran 
and the plain of Damascus. They appear to have been con- 
structed as follows : — A shaft was sunk to the depth of from ten 
to twenty feet, at a spot where it was supposed water might 
be found; then a tunnel was excavated on the level of the 
bottom of the shaft, and in the direction of the town to be 
supplied. At the distance of about a hundred yards another 



34 



BASHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



shaft was sunk, connecting the tunnel with the surface ; and so 
the work was carried on until it was brought close to the city, 
where a great reservoir was made. Some of these aqueducts 
are nearly twenty miles in length; and even though no living 
spring should exist along their whole course, they soon collect 
in the rainy season sufficient surface water to supply the largest 
reservoirs. Springs are rare in Bashan. It is a thirsty land ; 
but cisterns of enormous dimensions — some open, others covered 
— are seen in every city and village. It was doubtless by some 
such " conduit " as this that Hezekiah took water into Jerusa- 
lem from the upper spring of Gihon (2 Kings xx. 20). 

ANCIENT CITIES. 

Scrambling through, or rather over, a ruinous gateway, we 
entered the city of Bathanyeh. A wide street lay before us, 
the pavement perfect, the houses on each side standing, streets 
and lanes branching off to the right and left. There was some- 
thing inexpressibly mournful in riding along that silent street, 
and looking in through half-open doors to one after another of 
those desolate houses, with the rank grass and weeds in their 
courts, and the brambles growing in festoons over the doorways, 
and branches of trees shooting through the gaping rents in the 
old walls. The ring of our horses' feet on the pavement a- 
wakened the echoes of the city, and startled many a strange 
tenant. Owls flapped their wings round the gray towers ; daws 
shrieked as they flew away from the house-tops ; foxes ran out 
and in among shattered dwellings, and two jackals rushed from 
an open door, and scampered off along the street before us. 
The graphic language of Isaiah, uttered regarding another city, 
but vividly descriptive of desolation in any place, came up at 
once to my mind and to my lips : — " Wild beasts of the desert 
shall lie there ; and their houses shall be full of doleful crea- 
tures ; and owls shall dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there " 
(Isa. xiii. 21). 



CITY OF BATHANYEH. 



35 



Bathanyeh stands on the northern declivity of the mountains 
of Bashan, and commands a view of the boundless plain 
towards the lakes of Damascus. About a mile and a half to the 
north-west I saw two large villages close together. Two miles 
further, on the top of a high tell, were the ruins of a town, 
which, my guides said, are both extensive and beautiful. Three 
other towns were visible in the plain, and two on the slopes 
eastward. How we wished to visit these ! but time would not 
permit. From this, as from every other point where I reached 
the limits of my prescribed tour, I turned aside with regret ; 
because away beyond, the eye rested on enticing ruins, and 
unexplored towns and villages. 

Bathanyeh is not quite so large as Hit, but the buildings are 
of a superior character and in much better preservation. One 
of the houses in which I rested for a time might almost be 
termed a palace. A spacious gateway, with massive folding- 
doors of stone, opened from the street into a large court. On 
the left was a square tower some forty feet in height. Round 
the court, and opening into it, were the apartments, all in 
perfect preservation ; and yet the place does not seem to have 
been inhabited for centuries. Greek inscriptions on the prin- 
cipal buildings prove that they existed at the commencement 
of our era ; and in the whole town I did not see a solitary 
trace of Mohammedan occupation, so that it has probably been 
deserted for at least a thousand years. The name at once 
suggests its identity with Batanis, one of the thirty-four eccles- 
iastical cities of Arabia, whose bishops were in the fifth century 
suffragans of the primate of Bostra. Batanis was the capital 
of the Greek province of Batansea, a part of the tetrarchy of 
Philip, mentioned by Josephus, but included by Luke (iii. i) 
in the "region of Trachonitis." The region round it is still 
called "the Land of Batanea;" and the name is interesting 
as a modern representative of the Scriptural Bashan. 

Turning away from this interesting place, we rode along the 



26 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



mountain side eastward to Shuka, four miles distant. This is 
also a very old town, and must at one time have contained 
at least 20,000 inhabitants, though now it has scarcely twenty 
families. Ptolemy, the Greek geographer, calls it Saccaea. It 
was evidently rebuilt by the Romans, as only a very few of its 
antique massive houses remain, and the shattered ruins of 
temples are seen on every side. One of these temples was long 
used as a church, and the ruins of another church also exist, 
which, an inscription tells us, was dedicated by Bishop Tiberinos 
to St. George in a.d. 369. Around Shuka are some remarkable 
tombs, square towers, about twenty feet on each side, and from 
thirty to forty high, divided into stories. Tablets over the doors 
record the names of the dead who once lay there, and the dates 
of their death. They are of the first and second centuries of our 
era. They have been all rifled, so that we cannot tell how the 
bodies were deposited, though probably the arrangements were 
similar to those in the tombs of Palmyra. From the ruins of Shuka 
three other towns were in sight among the hills on the east. 

Remounting, we rode for ten miles through a rich agricultural 
district to Shuhba. We passed only one village, but we saw 
several towns on the wooded sides of the mountain to the left, 
and numerous others down on the plain to the right. Crossing 
a rugged ravine, and ascending a steep bank, we reached the- 
walls of Shuhba. They are completely ruined, so much so, 
that the only way into the city is over them, beside a beautiful 
Roman gateway, now blocked up with rubbish. Having entered, 
we proceeded along a well-paved street — the most perfect speci- 
men of Roman pavement I had yet seen — to the residence of 
the chief. In the large area in front of his mansion we found 
a crowd of eager people, and the first to hold out the hand of 
welcome was our kind host of the previous night, Sheikh Assad. 
He introduced us to his brother Fares, and we were then ushered 
into an apartment where we found comfort, smiling faces, and 
a hearty welcome. 



ROMAN CITY OF SHUHBA. 



37 



Shuhba is almost entirely a Roman city — the ramparts are 
Roman, the streets have the old Roman pavement, Roman 
temples appear in every quarter, a Roman theatre remains 
nearly perfect, a Roman aqueduct brought water from the distant 
mountains, inscriptions of the Roman age, though in Greek, 
are found on every public building. A few of the ancient 
massive houses, with their stone doors and stone roofs, yet 
exist, but they are in a great measure concealed or built over 
with the later and more graceful structures of Greek and Roman 
origin. Though this city was nearly three miles in circuit, and 
abounded in splendid buildings, its ancient name is lost, and 
its ancient history unknown. Its modern name is derived from 
a princely Mohammedan family which settled here in the seventh 
century. The Emir Beshir Shehab, the last of the native rulers 
of Lebanon, was a member of the family, and so also was the 
Emir Saad-ed-Din, who was murdered in the late massacre at 
Hasbeiya on the side of Hermon. 

Beside Shuhba is a little cup-shaped hill which caught my 
eye the moment I entered the city. On ascending I found it 
to be the crater of an extinct volcano, deeply covered with 
ashes, cinders, and scoriae — one of the centres, doubtless, of 
that terrific convulsion which in some remote age heaved up 
the mountains of Bashan, and spread out the molten lava which 
cooled into the rock fields of Argob. From the summit I had 
a near and distinct view of the south-eastern section of Argob. 
Its features are even wilder and drearier than those of the 
northern. The rocks are higher, the glens deeper and more 
tortuous. It looks, in fact, like the ruins of a country, and yet 
towns and villages are thickly studded over that wilderness of 
rocks. The mountains which rise behind Shuhba on the east 
are terraced half-way up, and their tops are clothed with oak 
forests. The vine and the fig flourished here luxuriantly in the 
days of Bashan's glory, winter streams then irrigated and en- 
riched the slopes, and filled the great cisterns in every city ; 



33 



BASHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



but the Lord said in his wrath, " I will make waste mountains 
and hills, and dry up all their herbs ; and I will make the 
rivers islands, and I will dry up the pools" (Isa. xlii. 15), and 
now I saw that the words of the Lord were literally and fear- 
fully true. 

Sheikh Fares and his brother made all requisite arrangements 
for our future tour through Bashan. They told us that so long 
as we travelled in the Druse country we should be perfectly 
safe ; no hand, no tongue, would be lifted against us ; a wel- 
come would meet us in every village, and a cordial wish for our 
welfare follow us on eveiy path. We knew this, for we knew 
that policy as well as the sacred laws of Oriental hospitality, 
would constrain the Druses to aid and protect us to the utmost 
of their power. They warned us, however, that some parts of 
our proposed journey would be attended with considerable risk. 
They told us plainly that the Mohammedans could not be trusted, 
and that if we attempted to penetrate the Lejah (Argob), all the 
power of the Druses might not be sufficient to save us from the 
fury of excited fanatics. We attributed these warnings to the 
best motives, but we thought them exaggerated. To our cost 
we afterwards found that they were only too much needed. 
Shiekh Fares gave us one of the most intelligent and active of 
his men as guide and companion, he also supplied horses for 
our servants and baggage, and a Druse escort. Thus equipped, 
we bade farewell to our kind and generous host, and set out on 
our journey southward. For more than an hour we followed 
the course of a Roman road along the western declivity of 
the mountain range, passing several old villages on the right 
and left. At one of these villages, picturesquely situated in a 
secluded glen, we saw a long procession of Druse women near 
a clump of newly-made graves. They had a strange unearthly 
look. The silver horns, which they wear upright on their heads, 
were nearly two feet long, over these were thrown white veils, 
enveloping the whole person, and reaching to the ground, thus 



DRUSE WOMEN WAILING FOR THE DEAD. 



39 



giving them a stature apparently far exceeding that of mortals. 
As they marched with stately steps round the tombs, they sung 
a wild chant that now echoed through the whole glen, and now 
sunk into the mournful cadence of a death-wail. I asked the 
meaning of this singular and striking scene, and was told that 
eleven of the bravest men in the village had fallen in the late 
war, these were their graves, and now the principal women of 
Shuhba had come to comfort and mourn with the wives of the 
slain ; just as, in the time of our Lord, many of the Jews came 
from Jerusalem " to comfort Martha and Mary concerning their 
brother Lazarus" (John xi. 18-31). 

Descending a rugged bank into a rich plain, a quarter of an 
hour's gallop brought us to Suleim, a small but ancient town, 
containing the remains of a beautiful temple, and some other 
imposing buildings. A few Druses, who find ample accom- 
modation in the old houses, gathered round us, and pressed us 
to accept of their hospitality. We were compelled to decline, 
and after examining a group of remarkable subterranean cis- 
terns, we mounted again and turned eastward up a picturesque 
valley to Kunawat. The scenery became richer and grander 
as we ascended. The highest peaks of the mountains of Bashan 
were before us, wooded to their summits. On each side were 
terraced slopes, broken here and there by a dark cliff or ragged 
brake, and sprinkled with oaks; in the bottom of the dell 
below, a tiny stream, the first we had seen in Bashan, leaped 
joyously from rock to rock, while luxuriant evergreens embraced 
each other over its murmuring waters. From the top of every 
rising ground we looked out over jungle and grove to gray 
ruins, which here and there reared themselves proudly above 
dense masses of foliage. Diving into the dell by a path that 
would try the nerves of a mountain goat, we crossed the stream- 
let and wound up a rocky bank, among giant oaks and thick 
underwood, to an old building which crowns a cliff impending 
over the glen. As we rode up we could obtain a glimpse of its 



40 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



gray walls here and there through dark openings, but on reach- 
ing the broad terrace in front of it, and especially on entering 
its spacious court, we were struck as much with its extent as 
with the beauty of its architecture. The doorway is encircled 
by a broad border of the fruit and foliage of the vine, entwined 
with roses and lilies, sculptured in bold relief, and with equal 
accuracy of design and delicacy of execution. The court was 
surrounded by cloisters supported by Ionic columns, but nearly 
all gone now. On the north side is a projection containing a 
building at one period used as a church, but probably originally 
intended for a temple. The ruins of another building, the 
shrine or sanctuary of the whole, are strewn over the centre of 
the quadrangle. The graceful pillars, and sculptured pediment, 
and cornice with its garlands of flowers, lie in shapeless heaps 
beneath the shade of oak trees, and almost concealed by thorns 
and thistles. Yes, the curse is visible there, not so painfully 
visible perhaps as in Western Palestine, where only a few stones 
or heaps of rubbish mark the site of great cities, yet still visible 
in crumbling wall and prostrate column, and in those very 
brambles that weave a beauteous mantle round the fallen 
monuments of man's genius and power. " Thorns shall come 
up in her palaces, nettles and brambles in the fortresses there- 
of." — They are here. 

And other evidences of the curse were there too. As we 
approached the ruin not a living creature was visible. The air 
was still, and the silence of death appeared to reign over glen 
and mountain. A solitary fox leaped from his den by the 
great gateway as our feet crossed the threshold, and took refuge 
in a neighbouring thicket, but this seemed to be the only tenant 
alike of temple and forest. So it seemed, and so we thought ; 
yet, before we were fifteen minutes among the ruins, three or 
four wild : looking heads were observed peering over a cairn of 
stones, and the sunbeams glanced from the barrels of their 
levelled muskets. We went on with our examinations, and the 



ADVENTURE WITH BED A WIN. 41 

wild heads and glittering barrels went on increasing. Mah« 
mood, our Druse guide, fortunately saw them, and stepping out 
from the shade of the portico, where we had left him with the 
horses, he hinted that it would be well for us to keep near him, 
and complete our researches as speedily as possible. We soon 
mounted, and as we defiled through the forest a score of fierce 
Bedawin, armed with gun and pistol, leaped from their hiding 
places, and lined our path. We were startled, and began to 
think that our tour was about to come to a speedy and un- 
pleasant termination; but Mahmood rode on in silence, not 
deigning to turn his head, or direct a single look to these daring 
outlaws. We followed in close file, and as I broughjt up the 
rear, I thought it well to give them the customary salutation, 
Ullah makum, " God be with you." Not a man of them re- 
turned it ; and plainly, as if the words had been written on 
their scowling faces, I saw that they were cursing inwardly the 
stern necessity that kept their hands off us. These we after- 
wards learned are the chief inhabitants of the mountains of 
Bashan — reckless, lawless, thieving vagabonds, who live by 
plunder, and glory in their success as freebooters. The Druses 
keep them in check, and they know well that a terrible ven- 
geance would be taken on them if they should dare to interfere 
with any enjoying Druse protection. How applicable to this 
section of Palestine, and to many another, are the words of 
Isaiah, — " Your country is desolate, your cities are burned 
with fire ; your land, strangers devour it i?i your presence, and 
it is desolate, as overthrown by strangers" (i. 7). 

KENATH. 

A few minutes' ride brought us to the brow of a hill com- 
manding a view of Kunawat. On the left was a deep dark 
ravine, and on the sloping ground along its western bank lie 
the ruins of the ancient city. The wall, still in many places 
almost perfect, follows the top of the cliffs for nearly a mile, 



\2 



BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



and then sweeps round in a zigzag course, enclosing a space 
about half a mile wide. The general aspect of the city is very 
striking — temples, palaces, churches, theatres, and massive 
buildings whose original use we cannot tell, are grouped to- 
gether in picturesque confusion ; while beyond the walls, in the 
glen, on the summits and sides of wooded peaks, away in the 
midst of oak forests, are clusters of columns and massive towers, 
and lofty tombs. The leading streets are wide and regular, 
and the roads radiating from the city gates are unusually 
numerous and spacious. 

While the Israelites were engaged in the conquest of the 
country east of the Jordan, Moses tells us that " Nobah went 
and took Kenath, and the villages thereof, and called it Nobah, 
after his own name " (Num. xxxii. 42). Kenath was now be- 
fore us. The name was changed into Canatha by the Greeks ; 
and the Arabs have made it Kunawat. During the Roman 
rule it was one of the principal cities east of the Jordan; and 
at a very early period it had a large Christian population, and 
became the seat of a bishopric. It appears to have been 
almost wholly rebuilt about the commencement of our era, and 
is mentioned by most of those Greek and Roman writers who 
treat of the geography or history of Syria. At the Saracenic 
conquest Kenath fell into the hands of the Mohammedans, 
and then its doom was sealed. There are no traces of any 
lengthened Mohammedan occupation, for there is not a single 
mosque in the whole town. The heathen temples were all 
converted into churches, and two or three new churches were 
built ; but none of these buildings were ever used as mosques, 
as such buildings were in most of the other great cities of 
Syria. 

We spent the afternoon and some hours of the next day in 
exploring Kenath. Many of the ruins are beautiful and inter- 
esting. The highest part of the site was the aristocratic quarter. 
Here is a noble palace, no less than three temples, and a 



THE RUINS OF KEN A TH. 



43 



hippodrome once profusely adorned with statues. In no other 
city of Palestine did I see so many statues as there are here. 
Unfortunately they are all mutilated ; but fragments of them — 
heads, legs, arms, torsos, with equestrian figures, lions, leopards, 
and dogs — meet one on every side. A colossal head of Ashter- 
oth, sadly broken, lies before a little temple, of which probably 
it was once the chief idol. The crescent moon which gave the 
goddess the name Carnaim ("two-horned"), is on her brow. 
I was much interested in this fragment, because it is a visible 
illustration of an incidental allusion to this ancient goddess in 
the very earliest historic reference to Bashan. We read in 
Gen. xiv. 5, that the kings of the East, on their way to Sodom, 
" smote the Rephaims in Ashteroth-Karnaim." May not this 
be the very city 1 We found on examination that the whole 
area in front of the palace has long ranges of lofty arched 
cisterns beneath it, something like the temple-court at Jerusalem. 
These seemed large enough to supply the wants of the city 
during the summer. They were filled by means of an aque- 
duct excavated in the bank of the ravine, and connected pro- 
bably with some spring in* the mountains. The tombs of 
Kenath are similar to those of Palmyra — high square towers 
divided into stories, each story containing a single chamber, 
with recesses along the sides for bodies. About a quarter of a 
mile west of the city is a beautiful peripteral temple of the 
Corinthian order, built on an artificial platform. Many of the 
columns have fallen, and the walls are much shattered ; but 
enough remains to make this one of the most picturesque ruins 
in the whole country. 

Early in the morning we set out to examine the ruins in the 
glen, and to scale a high cliff on its opposite bank, where we 
had noticed a singular round tower and some heavy fragments 
of walls. The glen appears to have been anciently laid out as 
a park or pleasure ground. We found terraced walks, and little 
fountains now dry, and pedestals for statues, a miniature temple, 



44 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



and a rustic opera, whose benches are hewn in the side of the 
cliff; a Greek inscription in large characters round the front of 
the stage, tells us that it was erected by a certain Marcus Lusias, 
at his own expense, and given to his fellow-citizens. From the 
opera a winding stair-case, hewn in the rock, leads up to the 
round tower on the summit of the cliff. We ascended, and 
were well repaid alike for our early start and toil. The tower 
itself has little interest; it is thirty yards in circuit, and now 
about twenty feet high; the masonry is colossal and of great 
antiquity. Beside it are the remains of a castle or palace, built 
of bevelled stones of enormous size. The doors are all of stone, 
and some of them are ornamented with panels and fretted 
mouldings, and wreaths of fruit and flowers sculptured in high 
relief. In one door I observed a place for a massive lock or 
bar; perhaps one of those "brazen bars" to which allusion is 
made by the sacred writers (i Kings iv. 13). But it was the 
glorious view which these ruins command that mainly charmed 
us. As I sat down on a great stone on the brow of the ravine, 
my eye wandered over one of the most beautiful panoramas I 
ever beheld. From many a spot amid the lofty peaks of 
Lebanon I had looked on wilder and grander scenery. Stand- 
ing on the towering summit of the castle at Palmyra, ruins more 
extensive and buildings far more magnificent lay at my feet. 
From the Cyclopean walls of the Temple of the Sun at Baalbec 
I saw prouder monuments of man's genius, and more exquisite 
memorials of his taste and skill. But never before had I looked 
on a scene which nature, and art, and destruction had so com- 
bined to adorn. It was not the wild grandeur of Lebanon, 
with beetling cliff and snow-capped peak; it was not the flat 
and featureless Baalbec, with its Cyclopean walls and unrivalled 
columns ; it was not the blasted desolation of Palmyra, where 
white ruins are thickly strewn over a white plain. Here were 
bill and vale, wooded slopes and wild secluded glens, frowning 
cliffs and battlemented heights, moss-grown ruins and groups of 



SHEPHERDS LEADING THEIR FLOCKS. 45 

tapering columns springing up from the dense foliage of the 
oaks of Bashan. Hitherto I had been struck with the naked- 
ness of Syrian ruins. They are half-buried in dust, or they are 
strewn over mounds of rubbish, or they lie prostrate on the bare 
gravelly soil; and, though the shafts are graceful, the capitals 
chaste, the fretwork of frieze and cornice rich, yet, as pictures, 
they contrast poorly with the ivy-mantled abbeys of England, 
and the nature-clothed castles of the Rhine. Amid the hills of 
Bashan, however, the scene is changed. The fresh foliage 
hides defects, and enhances the beauty of stately portico and 
massive wall, while luxuriant creepers twine round the pillars, 
and wreathe the volutes of the capitals with garlands. 

SHEPHERDS LEADING THEIR FLOCKS. 

As we sat and looked, almost spell-bound, the silent hill-sides 
around us were in a moment filled with life and sound. The 
shepherds led their flocks forth from the gates of the city. They 
were in full view, and we watched them and listened to them 
with no little interest. Thousands of sheep and goats were 
there, grouped in dense, confused masses. The shepherds 
stood together until all came out. Then they separated, each 
shepherd taking a different path, and uttering as he advanced 
a shrill peculiar call. The sheep heard them. At first the 
masses swayed and moved, as if shaken by some internal con- 
vulsion ; then points struck out in the direction taken by the 
shepherds ; these became longer and longer until the confused 
masses were resolved into long, living streams, flowing after 
their leaders. Such a sight was not new to me, still it had lost 
none of its interest. It was perhaps one of the most vivid illus- 
trations which human eyes could witness of that beautiful dis- 
course of our Lord recorded by John — " And the sheep hear 
the shepherd's voice : and he calleth his own sheep by name, 
and leadeth them out, and when he putteth forth his own sheep, 
he goeth before therm, and the sheep follow him; for they know 



46 



BASRA N AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



his voice. And a stranger will they not follow : for they know 
not the voice of strangers'' (x. 3-5). 

The shepherds themselves had none of that peaceful and 
placid aspect which is generally associated with pastoral life 
and habits. They looked more like warriors marching to the 
battle-field — a long gun slung from the shoulder, a dagger and 
heavy pistols in the belt, a light battle-axe or iron-headed club 
in the hand. Such were their equipments; and their fierce 
flashing eyes and scowling countenances showed but too plainly 
that they were prepared to use their weapons at any moment. 
They were all Arabs — not the true sons of the desert, but a 
mongrel race living in the mountains, and acting as shepherds 
to the Druses while feeding their own flocks. Their costume is 
different from that of the Druses, and almost the same as that 
of the desert Arabs — a coarse shirt of blue calico bound round 
the waist by a leathern girdle, a loose robe of goats' hair, and a 
handkerchief thrown over the head and fastened by a fillet of 
camels' hair, — such is their whole costume, and it is filthy be- 
sides, and generally in rags. 

THE DRUSES. 

From Kunawat we saw two large deserted villages higher up 
among the mountains, and a large deserted town below on the 
borders of the plain. These we had not time to visit. The 
hospitable Druses repeatedly urged us to spend another day 
with them; and we felt a strong inclination to linger in this old 
city, for there was much to interest us, not in the ruins merely, 
but likewise in the modern inhabitants. When squatting in the 
evening in the large reception room of the sheikh's house we 
observed with some surprise that though it was often crowded 
with Druses, old and young, not a man of them tasted 
coffee or tobacco except Mahmood. They all belonged to the 
order of Ukala, or "initiated;" and they are Nazirites in the 
widest sense. Kunawat, in fact, is almost a holy city for the 



THE DRUSES. 



47 



Druses ; their great religious chief resides here, and this place 
is consequently the centre of power and intrigue. They are a 
remarkable people. Their religion is a mystery ; their manners 
are simple and patriarchal ; their union and courage are pro- 
verbial; and though small in number they form the most power- 
ful party in Syria. Whenever danger threatens, or whenever 
they find it expedient to resist the demands or exactions of the 
Porte, they congregate in the Hauran, and no force has ever 
been found sufficient to dislodge or subdue them. Here they 
defied Ibrahim Pasha, and destroyed the flower of the Egyptian 
army; here they have once and again defeated the Turkish 
troops, and driven them back with disgrace to the very walls of 
Damascus. Physically they are the finest race in Western Asia 
— tall, stalwart, hardy mountaineers. Accustomed from child- 
hood to vigorous exercise, and trained in athletic sports and the 
use of arms, they form a body of brave and daring " irregulars" 
such as the world could scarcely match. But the grand secret 
of their power is their union. They act together as one man. 
Brotherly union in peace and war, in prosperity and adversity, 
is the chief article of their religious creed. As regards religion, 
they are divided into two classes, the Initiated and the Ignorant. 
With the former the rites, ceremonies, and doctrines remain a 
profound secret. The holy books are preserved and read by 
them alone. They assemble in chapels every Thursday even- 
ing, refusing admission to all others. What they do then and 
there is unknown; but there is reason to believe that these 
meetings are quite as much of a political as a religious character. 

The Druse sheikhs form a hereditary nobility, and preserve 
with great tenacity all the pride and state of their order. They 
receive and entertain travellers with profuse hospitality, and no 
compensation in money can be offered to them. To strangers, 
under ordinary circumstances, they are obliging, communi- 
cative, and faithful. In time of peace they are industrious and 
courteous; but in war they are noted alike for daring courage 



4« 



BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



and unsparing ferocity. When among this strange and primi- 
tive people in Bashan, I felt at once that I was out of the 
beaten track of tourists, where one can pitch his tent, picket his 
horses, cook his provisions, and march again, caring for nobody, 
and nobody caring for him. Here all is different. We are 
among a people of patriarchal manners and genuine patriarchal 
hospitality. We were looked on and treated as welcome guests. 
We could not pass town or village without being entreated to 
accept hospitality. " Will not my lord descend while his ser- 
vants prepare a little food?" is the urgent language of every 
village sheikh. The coffee is always on the hearth; a kid or 
lamb — representative of the old " fatted calf" — is at hand, and 
can be "got ready" with all the despatch of ancient days. 
Food for servants, "provender" for horses, accommodation for 
all, are given as matters of course. In travelling through Bashan 
one fancies himself carried back to the days when the patriarchs 
sat in their tent-doors, ready to welcome every visitor and hail 
every passer-by. 



III. 

" And Bashan and Carmel shake off their fruits."* 

This text was constantly in my mind while I wandered 
through Bashan. In riding down from the ruins of Kenath, 
among the mountains, to the ruins of Suweideh at their base, it 
struck me that the beautiful words in which Cowper describes 
modern Sicily, are strikingly descriptive of modern Palestine. 

" Alas for Sicily ! rude fragments now 
Lie scattered where the shapely column stood. 
Her palaces are dust. In all her streets 
The voice of singing, and the sprightly chord 
Are silent Revelry, and dance, and show 
Suffer a syncope and solemn pause ; 
While God performs upon the trembling stage 
Of his own works his dreadful part alone." 



FULFILMENT OF PROPHECY. 



49 



We might begin, "Alas for Palestine !" and go on through the 
whole passage ; for Palestine's palaces are dust, her stately 
columns fallen, her streets silent, her fields desolate, while God 
alone performs his dreadful part, fulfilling to the very letter the 
prophetic curses pronounced upon the land long, long centuries 
ago. 

WONDERFUL FULFILMENT OF PROPHECY. 

We rode along the line of the Roman road, at least as closely 
as branches of the great old oaks, and jungles of thorns and 
bushes, would permit; for "the highways lie waste" (Isa. xxxiii. 8). 
Every opening to the right and left revealed ruins; — now a 
tomb in a quiet nook; now a temple in a lonely forest glade; 
now a shapeless and nameless heap of stones and fallen columns; 
and now, through a long green vista, the shattered walls and 
towers of an ancient city. The country is filled with ruins. In 
every direction to which the eye turns, in every spot on which 
it rests, ruins are visible — so truly, so wonderfully have the pro- 
phecies been fulfilled: u I will destroy your high places, and bring 
your sanctuaries unto desolation" (Lev. xxvi. 30). " The palaces 
shall be forsaken" (Isa. xxxii. 14). u I will make your cities 
waste. The land shall be utterly spoiled" (Isa. xxiv. 3). Many 
other ruins, doubtless, lie concealed among the forests, buried 
beneath giant oaks, or shrouded by luxuriant brambles. 
Judging by the "thorns and thistles" which hem in every path, 
and half conceal every ruin, one would suppose that Bashan had 
received a double portion of the curse. 

The mountains of Bashan, though not generally very steep, 
are rugged and rocky; yet everywhere on their sides I saw the 
remains of old terraces — along every slope, up every bank, from 
the bottom of the deepest glen, where the oleander bends over 
the tiny streamlet, to the highest peak on which the clouds of 
heaven sleep, cradled on winter snows. These tell of former 
toil and industry ; and so do the heaps of loose stones that 



5° 



BASH AX AXD ITS GIANT CITIES. 



have been collected oft" the soil, and piled up in the corners 
of the little fields. In the days of Bashan's glory, fig-trees, and 
olives, and pomegranates, were ranged along those terraces ; 
and vines hung down in ricb festoons over their broken walls. 
But now Bashan has shaken off its fruits. " For a nation is 
come up upon my /and, strong, and without number. He hath 
laid my vine waste, and ba?'ked my fig-tree; he hath made it dean 
bare, and cast it away. The field is wasted, the /and moumeth. 
The new wine is dried up, the oil languisheth. The vine is driea 
up, the fig-tree languisheth; the pomegranate-tree, the palm-tree also, 
and the apple-tree; even all the trees of the field are withered; 
because joy is wither 'ed away from the sons of men" (Joel i. 
6-12). 

The scenery is still rich. It is rich in the foliage of the ever- 
green oak — the "oak of Bashan;'* rich in numbers of evergreen 
shrubs ; rich in green pastures. It is picturesque too, and occa- 
sionally even grand; for the glens are deep and winding, and 
the outlines of the intervening ridges varied with many a dark 
cliff and wooded bank. The whole mountain range is of volcanic 
origin, and the peaks shoot up, conical or cup-shaped, forming 
long serried lines. One thing struck me as peculiar. The 
rocks are black, the soil is black, the buildings are all black. 
It might be thought that the landscape would thus have a 
gloomy aspect ; and it would have, were it not for the fresh 
green grass of the glades and meadows, and the brilliant foliage 
of the oak forests, which often glitter beneath the blaze of sun- 
shine like forests of prisms. 

I confess it was with feelings of awe I looked from time to 
time out over those desolate, but still beautiful slopes, to that 
more desolate plain. I knew what caused the desolation. The 
silence, too, awed me yet more, for it was profound. The voice 
of nature itself was hushed, and not a leaf in the forest rustled. 
There is always something cheerful, something reviving to the 
flagging spirit, in the unceasing murmur of a great city, now 



PROPHECY CHANGED TO HISTORY. 51 

rising and now falling on the breeze, as one approaches it or 
passes by; and in the continuous hum of a rural scene, where 
the call of the herd, and the whistle of the ploughman, and the 
roll of the waggon, and the bleatings of the flock, and the low- 
ing of the kine, melt into one of nature's choruses. Here cities 
studded the whole country, but the stillness of death reigned in 
them ; there was no ploughman in the field, no shepherd on the 
hill-side, no flock on the pasture, no waggon, no wayfarer on 
the road. Yet there was a time when the land teemed with an 
industrious, a bustling, and a joyous population. At that time 
prophets wrote : " Your highways shall be desolate'" (Lev. xxvi. 22). 
" The wayfaring man ceaseth. The earth mourneth and languish- 
ed" (Isa. xxxiii. 8). " The land shall be utterly e?nptied and 
utterly spoiled; for the Lord haih spoken this word. Therefore 
hath the curse devoured the land. Therefore the inhabitants of the 
land are consumed, and few men left. Every house is shut up. 
The mirth of the land is gone. In the city is left desolation, and 
the gate is smitten with destruction" (Isa. xxiv. 3-12). Many of 
the people of those days, doubtless, thought the prophets were 
but gloomy dreamers. Just as many in our own day regard their 
writings as gorgeous fancy pictures of Eastern poets ; but with 
my own eyes I saw that time has. changed every prediction into 
a historic fact. I saw now, and I saw at every step through 
Bashan, that the visions of the prophets were not delusions j 
that they were not even, as some modern critics suppose, highly 
wrought figures, intended perhaps to foreshadow in faint outline 
a few leading facts of the country's future story. I saw that they 
were, one and all, graphic and detailed descriptions of real 
events, which the Divine Spirit opened up to the prophet's eye 
through the long vista of ages. The language is, doubtless, 
beautiful, the style is poetic, and gorgeous Eastern imagery is 
often employed to give sublimity to the visions of the seer, and 
to the words of the Lord; but this does not take away one iota 
from their truth, nor does it detract in the slightest degree from 



52 BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 

their graphic power. Were the same holy men inspired now by 
the same Divine Spirit to describe the actual state of Palestine, 
they could not possibly select language more appropriate or 
more graphic than that found in their own predictions written 
thousands of years ago. This is no vague statement made at 
random, or penned for effect. God forbid I should ever pen a 
single line rashly or thoughtlessly on such a topic. It is the 
result of years of study and years of travel. It is the result of 
a calm and thorough comparison of each prophecy of Scripture 
regarding Palestine's history and doom with its fulfilment, upon 
the spot. I had no preconceived theory of prophetic interpre- 
tation to defend. My mind was not biassed by a false faith in 
literality on the one side, nor by a fatal scepticism regarding 
prophetic reality on the other. Opportunities were afforded me 
of examining evidence, of testing witnesses, of seeing with my 
own eyes the truth or the falsehood of Bible predictions. I 
embraced these opportunities, as God gave them, and to the 
utmost of my power and the best of my ability. I examined 
deliberately, cautiously, and, I believe, conscientiously. My 
examinations extended over all Palestine, and over most other 
Bible lands ; and now I thank God that, with the fullest and 
deepest conviction — conviction that all the ingenuity of modern 
criticism, and all the plausibility of modern scientific scepticism 
can never overthrow, could never shake — I can take up and re- 
echo the grand, the cheering statement of our blessed Lord, and 
proclaim my belief before the world, that " Till heaven and earth 
pass, 07ie jot or one tittle shall in no wise J>ass from the Law, till 
all be fulfilled." 

I observed around Kenath, and especially in the thickest 
parts of the forest on the way to Suweideh, that many of the 
largest and finest oak trees were burned almost through near 
the ground, and that a vast number of huge trunks were 
lying black and charred among the stones and brushwood. 
I wondered at what appeared to be a piece of wanton and 



DESTRUCTION OF TREES. 



53 



toilsome destruction, and I asked Mahmood if he could ex- 
plain it. 

" The Bedawin do it," he replied. " They make large quantities 
of charcoal for the Damascus market, as well as for home use; 
and that they may get more easily at the branches, which are 
the only parts of the tree used, they kindle a fire round the roots 
of the largest oaks, burn them deeply, and then the first blast 
of wind blows them over, and the boughs are chopped off with 
little axes." 

" But," I said, " in this way they destroy vast quantities of 
splendid timber." 

" True \ but they do not care. All they want is a present 
supply, and they try to get it in the easiest way possible." 

" They will soon make your mountains as bare as Jebel esh- 
Sheikh, and where will you go for firewood and charcoal then ? 
You are fools to permit such needless waste and destruction." 

"O my lord?" said Mahmood — and there was a degree of 
solemnity and pathos both in his tone and in his words — " O 
my lord ! it is you Franks alone who have wisdom to look to 
the future, and power to provide for it. We ! what can we do 
in this unhappy country % We are all wanderers — here to-day, 
away to-morrow. Should we attempt to preserve these oaks, or 
to plant vineyards and olives, or to spend labour and money on 
fields or houses, we would only be working out our own ruin. 
The Bedawin would be attracted in clouds ground the tempting 
fruit; and the Turks would come, drive us out with their cannon, 
and seize our whole property. No, no ! We can have no per- 
manent interest in the ground. We can only hold it as we have 
got it, by the sword; and the poorer it looks, the less will our 
enemies covet it." 

It was a sad picture, and, unfortunately, a true one. By such 
mad acts, and by still more wanton destruction in times of war, 
and of party and family struggles, fruit-trees and forests have been 
almost annihilated in Palestine. And would it not seem as if 



54 



BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



the old prophets had been able to look down through the mists 
of long centuries, and to see the progress and the effects of this 
very mode of ruin and desolation, clearly as I saw it in Bashan? 
Isaiah thus wrote: "The defenced city shall be desolate, and 
the habitation forsaken, and left like a wilderness : there shall 
the calf feed, and there shall he lie down, and consume the 
branches thereof. When the boughs thereof are withered they 
shall be broken off; the women come and set them on fire; for it is 
a people of no understanding" (Isa. xxvii. 10, n). 

Descending from Kenath, I saw, about a mile to the right, 
the deserted town of Atyl. Burckhardt and one or two others 
visited it, but I was compelled from want of time to pass it by. 
It contains some fine buildings, among which are two beautiful 
temples nearly perfect. One of them was built in the fourteenth 
year of the Emperor Antonine (a.d. 150), as a Greek inscription 
tells us. Like Kenath, this city was in a great measure rebuilt 
during the Roman age, and consequently there are not many of 
the very ancient massive houses now remaining. Further down 
on the plain I saw Rimeh and Welgha, two deserted towns. 
Every view we got in Bashan was an ocular demonstration of 
the literal fulfilment of the curse pronounced on the land by 
Moses, more than three thousand years ago : " If ye will not 
hearkm unto me, and will not do all these comma?idments. ... 7 
will scatter you among the heathen ; and your land shall be desolate, 
and your cities waste" (Lev. xxvi. 14, 33). 

THE RUINS OF SUWEIDEH. 

Emerging from the oak forests we found ourselves on a low 
bare ridge which juts out from the mountains some distance 
into the plain. It is divided down the centre by a deep rocky 
ravine, through which a winter torrent flows. The portion of this 
ridge south of the ravine is covered with the ruins of Suweideh. 
We were riding up to them when my attention was attracted by 
a singular monument standing alone on a commanding site. 



RUINS OF SU WE ID EH. 



55 



a few hundred yards north of the city. It is a square tower, 
about thirty feet high. The sides are ornamented with Doric 
semi-columns supporting a plain cornice, and between them, on 
panels, are shields, helmets, and trophies of arms sculptured in 
relief. A legend, inscribed in Greek and Palmyrene, states that 
" Odainatus, son of Annelos, built this monument to Chamrate, 
his wife. 1 ' Few and simple are the words. The story of 
Chamrate is unknown. What were her private virtues, or public 
services, we cannot tell. Strange that this monument should 
stand as the tribute of a husband's admiration and love, when 
the histories of husband, wife, and native city have passed away 
for long centuries ! It is worthy of note that Odainatus was the 
name of the celebrated husband of the still more celebrated 
Zenobia. The Palmyrene inscription on the monument would 
seem to indicate that its founder was a native of the desert city. 
Perhaps the great Odainatus himself, during his warlike expedi- 
tion into Syria, may have thus celebrated the virtues of a former 
wife. 

Crossing the ravine by a Roman bridge, we rode up to 
Suweideh, and under the guidance of the sheikh's son, a fine 
manly boy of some fourteen years, splendidly dressed in a scarlet 
robe, and armed with silver-hilted sword and dagger, we pro- 
ceeded to examine in detail the wide-spread ruins. We visited 
a Corinthian peristyle ; a Roman gateway at the end of a straight 
street, nearly a mile in length, and paved throughout; the ruins 
of a temple of the age of Trajan; the remains of a very large » 
church, within whose crumbling walls is the modern Christian 
burying-ground ; a mosque, the roof of which was once supported 
on marble columns, doubtless rifled from an old church, or a 
still older temple. Then we inspected the ruins of a fountain, 
of an opera, and of a large theatre; and we saw two immense 
reservoirs, anciently supplied by aqueducts which brought water 
from the neighbouring mountains. 

Verily the destroyer has been long a.t work in this old city I 



5 6 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



Here are ruins heaped upon the top of ruins ; temples trans- 
formed into churches ; churches again transformed into mosques, 
and mosques now dreary and desolate. Inscriptions were here, 
side by side, recording each transformation, and showing how 
the same building was dedicated first to Jove, then to St. 
George, and finally to Mohammed. We walked on after our 
little guide, winding among vast heaps of ruins — ruins, nothing 
but ruins, and desolation, and rent walls, and fallen columns. 
The modern dwellings are just the lower stories of the ancient 
houses, which have been cleared out and occupied ; and the 
whole site has become so deeply covered with fallen structures, 
that the people seem, for the most part, to be residing in caves. 

Thirty or forty boys, with a fair sprinkling of men, followed 
us, shouting and dancing in high glee at the strange figures of 
the Franks, the first, probably, that most of them had seen. 
We should have been seriously incommoded by their attentions, 
had it not been for the threats of our manly little guide, accom- 
panied now and then by a volley of stones at the boys who 
ventured too near. As we passed the houses, too, and the 
cavern-like court-yards, portly women and coy girls peeped at 
us with one eye over the corners of their long white veils, and 
laughingly pointed out to each other some wondrous oddity 
about our dress. Our hats — or kettles, as they persisted in call- 
ing them — attracted most attention. In fact, we created among 
the quiet people of Suweideh quite as great a sensation as a 
party of Arabs with their bronzed faces, flame-coloured turbans, 
and flowing robes would do in Cheapside or in the High Street 
of Edinburgh. 

No city in Bashan — not even Bozrah, its Roman capital — 
surpasses Suweideh in the extent of its ruins ; and yet, strange 
to say, its ancient name is unknown, and there is no mention of 
it in history previous to the Crusades. It seems to have suf- 
fered more from time and from the chances of war than any 
other city in the whole country. Inscriptions found on its 



ANCIENT PROSPERITY. 



57 



monuments show that it was a flourishing city long before the 
conquest of Bashan by the Romans in a.d. 105, and that it 
carried on an extensive trade with Egypt and other countries 
down to the middle of the fourth century. William of Tyre, 
the historian of the Crusades, says of the region round the city : 
" It is rich in the choicest products of nature, — wine, corn, and 
oil ; the climate is salubrious and the air pure." So late, there- 
fore, as the twelfth century the country was prosperous and the 
city populous. We can see the evidence of this still. The 
hill-sides are everywhere terraced, and plain and mountain alike 
bear the marks of former careful cultivation. The terraces are 
admirably fitted for the growth of the vine, the fig, and the 
olive; and the rich plain even now bears crops of grain whose 
luxuriance is proverbial. Nowhere in Bashan, nowhere in all 
Syria, did I see such convincing evidences of the surpassing 
richness and vast resources of the soil, as around Suweideh 
One would suppose that Moses had his eye upon it when he 
penned these words — words equally beautiful and true : " The 
Lord thy God bri7tgeth thee into a good land, a land of brooks oj 
water, of fountains and depths that spring out of the valleys and 
hills; a land of wheat, and barley, and vines, and fig trees, and 
pomegranates; a land of oil olive, and honey; a land wherein thou 
shall eat bread without scarce?iess, thou shall not lack anything in 
it" (Deut. viii. 7-9). 

And one would suppose, too, looking at the Bible and look- 
ing at the land — comparing prophetic description with authentic 
history and present reality — that the prophets must surely have 
read the long and sad history of Palestine as I read it, and that 
they must surely have seen the present utter ruin and terrible 
desolation of this part of it as I saw it, and that they must surely 
have heard from the lips of the people the story of their oppres- 
sion and their dangers as I heard it, before they could possibly 
have written such graphic words as these : " / will make your 
cities waste, and bring your sanctuaries unto desolation. I will 



S3 



BASHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



bring the land into desolation; and your enemies which dwell 
therein shall be astonished at it" (Lev. xxvi. 31, 32). " The 
generation to come of your children that shall rise up after you, and 
the stranger that shall come frotn a far land, shall say, when they 
see the plagues of that land, and the sicknesses which the Lord hath 
laid upon it, Wherefore hath the Lord done thus unto this land 1 
what meaneth the heat of this great anger V (Deut xxix. 22, 24). 

These are only a few, a very few, of multitudes of similar 
predictions. And, let it be observed, the predictions are not 
made in mere general terms, capable of a wide rendering and a 
somewhat vague reference. They are special, graphic, and 
detailed; and their fulfilment is evident as it is complete. The 
fields are waste, the roads deserted, the cities abandoned, the 
houses without inhabitants, the sanctuaries desecrated, the vine- 
yards, orchards, and groves destroyed. And the land is 
desolated by the "violence" and the folly "of all them that dwelt 
therein," — of the Turks, its nominal owners, and of the Arabs, 
its periodical "spoilers," who come up "upon all high places 
through the wilderness." " Every one that passeth by it is 
astonished" at its deserted cities and waste fields ; and "the 
stra?iger that comes from a far country" — the thoughtful student 
of history, the thoughtful observer, the thoughtful reader of his 
Bible, — cannot refrain from exclaiming, as he rides through 
Bashan, " Wherefore hath the Lord done thus unto this land?" 

The noble Druse chief of Suweideh, Sheikh Waked el-Hamdan, 
was absent on our arrival, but in the evening he returned, and 
entertained us with a hospitality that would have done honour 
to the patriarch Job, who is represented, by a local tradition, as 
having been the first prince of Suweideh. When the evening 
banquet was over, the whole elders of the town crowded into 
the large reception-room of Sheikh Waked, and squatted in con- 
centric circles^round the blazing fire. We occupied the seat of 
honour, on a raised dais, beside the sheikh. Rings of white 
turbans, the distinguishing head-dress of the Druses, appeared 



HOSPITALITY OF A DRUSE CHIEF. 



59 



round and round us, here and there broken by the crimson 
kefiyeh of a Bedawy, or the black kerchief of a Christian. An 
Egyptian sat by the fire preparing and distributing coffee, while 
an Abyssinian slave behind him pounded the fragrant berries in 
a huge oak mortar, beating time with the pestle, which bore 
some resemblance, in form and size, to an Indian war-club. 
Each guest, on drinking, rose to his knee, touched forehead 
and lips with his right hand, and bowed to the sheikh ; then, on 
sitting down again, he made another similar salam, intended for 
the rest of the company, and those near him returned it, with a 
muttered prayer that the refreshment might do him good. It was 
an interesting scene, and was probably not unlike the receptions 
of guests in the mansion of Job and in the tents of Abraham. 

We talked of politics, of war, and of poetry; and most of the 
company took part in the conversation with a respectful pro- 
priety and a good sense that surprised me. The poetry of the 
Arabs has some striking peculiarities. Their poets often describe 
the virtues and achievements of distinguished men in short 
stanzas, containing two or four measures; and the beauty of the 
rhythm and boldness of the imagery are sometimes of a high 
order. There is a species of composition which they often try, 
and in which many are adepts. It is difficult for those who 
are ignorant of the peculiar structure of the Arabic language to 
understand its nature. A word is taken, and, by changing its 
form, a series of distinct acts is described, each act being ex- 
pressed by a different inflexion of the root. One word will thus 
occur six, eight, or ten times in a stanza, with the addition of a 
prefix or suffix, or the insertion of an intermediate letter, or an 
alteration in a vowel point; and each change conveys a new 
and definite meaning. The warlike achievements of a favourite 
leader are not unfrequently graphically described in this manner 
by skilful and varied inflexions of his own name. The Hebrew 
scholar will find something analogous to this in Jacob's play 
upon the word Gilead, in Genesis xxxi. 46-48; but the best 



6o 



BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



examples of the kind in Scripture are given in Hosea, chapters 
i. and ii., on the word Jezreel. 

The morning we left Suweideh dawned gloomy and threaten- 
ing. A heavy thunder-storm had passed over the place during 
the night. Never before in Syria had I seen rain heavier or 
lightning more vivid. For an hour or more the flashes seemed 
to form one continuous stream, lighting up the ruins of the city, 
and the glens and rocks of the neighbouring mountains with an 
intense though lurid blaze. In the morning, dark, lowering 
clouds still swept along the surface of the ground, and en- 
veloped the whole mountains. The air was cold, and the 
smart showers which fell at intervals made it feel still colder j 
but as the wind was high, and veering round to the north, we 
knew the day would be fine ; for the Scripture statement still 
holds good in Scripture lands, — " Fair weather cometh out of 
the north" (Job xxxvii. 22). 

A few minutes' ride down the rocky slope of the ridge on 
which Suweideh stands brought us into the plain of Bashan, 
properly so called. I had heard much of its richness. I had 
heard of the wonderful productiveness of that deep, black, 
loamy soil, of the luxuriance of its grass, and of its teeming 
crops of grain ; but up to the moment I first set foot on it, I 
thought — indeed I was fully persuaded — that a large amount 
of exaggeration must run through all those glowing descriptions. 
Now I saw that there had been no exaggeration, and that no 
part of Palestine could be compared in fertility to the plain of 
Bashan. No wonder the pastoral tribes of Reuben, Gad, and 
Manasseh made choice of this noble country, preferring its 
wooded hills and grassy plains to the comparatively bleak and 
bare range west of the Jordan, visible from the heights of Moab. 
The plain extended in one unbroken expanse, flat as the surface 
of a lake, for fifty miles, to the base of Hermon. Little hills — > 
some conical, some cup-shaped — rise at intervals like islands, 
and over their surface, and sometimes round their bases, are 



" THE HIGHWAYS ARE DESOLATE." 61 



scattered fragments of porous lava, intermixed with basalt of a 
firmer texture ; but the rest of the soil is entirely free from 
stones. On or beside these tells many of the ancient towns 
stand \ and their black walls, houses, and towers, shattered by 
time and the horrors of war, often look in the distance like 
natural cliffs. 

The Roman road which anciently connected Damascus and 
Bostra, passing close to some of the chief cities of Bashan, lay 
a few hundred yards to the right of our path. Its line can still 
be traced, — indeed the old pavement is in many places quite 
perfect, as much so as any part of the Appian Way; and yet, 
in a ride of some twenty miles this day along that route, we did 
not meet, we did not see, a single human being. The " way- 
faring man" has "ceased" here, and "the highways are de- 
solate." Before reaching the town of Ary, about eight miles 
from Suweideh, we passed two villages, and we saw four others 
a little Way up the mountain-side, on the left, — all of which 
contain a few families of Druses ; while away on the plain, to 
the right, no less than five towns were in view at one moment, 
entirely deserted. The words of Jeremiah are surely fulfilled : 

u I beheld, and, lo, there was no man I beheld, and, lo, the 

fruitful place was a wilderness, and all the cities thereof were 
broken down at the presence of the Lord, and by his fierce anger " 
(iv. 25, 26). 

The town of Ary stands on a rocky tell. It is about a mile 
in circuit ; but there are no buildings of any importance ; nor 
are there any traces of wealth or architectural beauty. It ap- 
pears to have been a plain country town, which became the seat 
of a bishopric about the fourth century, as we learn from the 
old ecclesiastical records. 

We had ascended the hill-side, and were quietly occupied in 
examining the ruins of what seemed to have been a church, 
when a party of the inhabitants came up, headed by their sheikh, 
and invited us to accept of their hospitality. They would take 

(10) - 



62 



BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



no excuse. It would be a disgrace to their village if they would 
permit us to pass j it would be an insult to their chief if wt 
should attempt it. They entreated as Abraham would have 
done at his tent-door, or Lot at the gate of Sodom. We entered 
the sheikh's house ; and while coffee was being prepared, the 
whole household — in fact a great part of the town — got into a 
state of commotion. A woman came into the apartment with 
a large copper vessel in her hand, — took " a measure " of flour 
out of a huge earthen jar in the corner, poured on water, and 
commenced the process of " kneading unleavened cakes." A 
moment afterwards we heard a confused noise of cackling and 
screaming ; then a flock of hens flew in terror past the open 
door, followed by a troop of women and boys in full chase. 
We saw they had resolved to make us " a feast." The flocks 
were at a distance, and it would take hours to obtain a lamb 
or a kid, — fowls must therefore serve as a substitute. We were 
fully aware of the despatch of Arab cooks, and that in this 
respect they were not surpassed even by the patriarchal; but our 
time was too precious to be wasted in mere ceremony, however 
interesting. Firmly, but respectfully, we assured our worthy 
host that we must proceed at once to Bozrah. To the evident 
regret of the stately sheikh, and the unbounded astonishment 
of crowds of his people, who gathered round us, and who could 
not understand how it was possible for any polite or respectable 
person to decline proffered hospitality, we mounted our horses 
and rode off. 

Our route lay near the base of the mountains of Bashan, 
which rose up in dark frowning masses on our left, most of their 
conical peaks wooded to the summit. Kuleib, the highest of 
the whole range, was in full view, its top covered with snow. 
Low spurs here shot far out into the plain, having between 
them rich vales covered with luxuriant pastures. Through the 
midst of each vale, between high alluvial banks, now flowed a 
tiny winter stream. Passing the villages of Mujeimir and Wetr, 



MAGNIFICENT PANORAMA. 



we gained the crest of a ridge commanding a noble view over 
the plain southward. We drew bridle for a few minutes, to 
examine more minutely this magnificent panorama. On the 
west, south, and south-east, the plain was unbounded. Every 
section of it to which we turned our eyes was thickly dotted 
with large towns and villages ; yet, with the exception of a few 
spots near us, there was no cultivation, and we did not see a 
single tree or bush on that vast expanse. Mahmood pointed 
out the more important cities. Due southward, some five miles 
distant, a broad black belt extended far across the green plain ; 
in the midst of it rose the massive towers and battlements of a 
great castle ; while other towers and tapering minarets shot up 
here and there. That was Bozrah, the ancient stronghold of 
Bashan, the capital of the Roman province, and the first city 
in Syria captured by the Saracens. We saw Jemurrin, Keires, 
Burd, Ghusam, and a host of others on the right and left — all 
aeserled. Low in a valley, on the south-east, lay the wide-spread 
ruins and ancient colossal houses of Kerioth, one of the old 
cities of the plain of Moab (Jer. xlviii. 24) ; while away beyond 
it, on the horizon, rose a graceful conical hill, crowned with the 
castle of Salcah, which Joshua mentions as the eastern limit of 
Bashan, and of the kingdom of the giant Og (Josh. xiii. 11, 12). 

This southern section of Bashan is richer in historic and 
sacred associations than the northern. I looked at it now 
spread out before me with feelings such as I cannot describe. 
Those large deserted cities, that noble but desolate plain, — the 
whole history of the country for four thousand years, from the 
Rephaim down to the Osmanlis, is written there. The massive 
dwellings show the simple style and ponderous workmanship of 
Giant architects. Jewish masonry and names ; Greek inscrip- 
tions and temples ; Roman roads ; Christian churches ; Saracenic 
mosques ; Turkish desolations ; — all, all are there ; and all 
alike are illustrations of the accuracy and confirmations of the 
truth of the Bible. 



BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



IV. 

BOZRAH. 

"And judgment is come upon Bozrah." — Jer. xlviii. 24. 

I spent three days at Bozrah. There is much to be seen 
there, — much of Scriptural, and still more of historical and 
antiquarian interest ; and I tried to see it all. Bozrah was a 
strong city, as its name implies — Bozrah, "fortress," — and a 
magnificent city; and numerous vestiges of its ancient strength 
and magnificence remain to this Hay. Its ruins are nearly five 
miles in circuit ; its walls are lofty and massive ; and its castle 
is one of the largest and strongest fortresses in Syria. Among 
the ruins I saw two theatres, six temples, and ten or twelve 
churches and mosques ; besides palaces, baths, fountains, 
aqueducts, triumphal arches, and other structures almost with- 
out number. The old Bozrites must have been men of great 
taste and enterprise as well as wealth. Some of the buildings 
I saw there would grace the proudest capital of modern 
Europe. 

It was a work of no little toil to explore Bozrah. The streets 
are mostly covered, and in some places completely blocked up, 
with fallen buildings and heaps of rubbish. Over these I had 
to climb, risking my limbs among loose stones. The principal 
structures, too, are so much encumbered with broken columns 
and the piled-up ruins of roofs and pediments, that one has 
great difficulty in getting at them, and discovering their points 
of interest or beauty. In trying to copy a Greek inscription 
over the door of a church, I clambered to the top of a wall. 
My weight caused it to topple over, and it fell with a terrible 
crash. It was only by a sudden and hazardous leap I escaped, 
and barely escaped, being buried beneath it. And we were 
hourly exposed to danger of another and. still more pressing 
kind. Bozrah had once a population of a hundred thousand 



1 



I 



I 



I 



BEDA WIN ROBBERS. 



65 



souls and more ; when I was there its whole inhabitants com- 
prised just twenty families ! These live huddled together in the 
lower stories of some very ancient houses near the castle. The 
rest of the city is completely desolate. The fountains near the 
city, and the rich pastures which encircle them, attract wander- 
ing Bedawin, — outcasts from the larger tribes, and notorious 
thieves and brigands. These come up from the desert with a 
few goats, sheep, and donkeys, and perhaps a horse ; and they 
lurk, gipsy-like, about the fountains and among the ruins of the 
large outlying towns of Bashan, watching every opportunity to 
plunder an unguarded caravan or strip (Luke x. 30) an unwary 
traveller, or steal a stray camel. The whole environs of Bozrah 
are infested with them, owing to the extent of the ruins and 
the numbers of wells and springs in and around them. Our 
arrival, numbers, and equipments had been carefully noted ; 
and armed men lay in wait, as we soon discovered, at various 
places, in the hope of entrapping and plundering some straggler. 
Once, indeed, a bold attempt was made by their combined 
forces to carry off our whole party. We had fortunately taken 
the precaution on our arrival to engage the brother of the sheikh 
as guide and guard during our stay; and to this arrangement, 
joined to the fear of the Druse escort, we owed our safety. So 
true has time made the words of Jeremiah : " The spoilers are 
come upon all high places through the wilderness . . . .no flesh shall 
have peace v (Jer. xii. 12). The words of Ezekiel, too, are 
strikingly applicable to the present state of Bozrah : " Thus 
saith the Lord God of the land of Israel ; They shall eat their 
bread with carefulness, and drink their water with astonishment, 
that her land may be desolate from all that is therein, because of 
the violence of all them that dwell therein. And the cities that are 
inhabited shall be laid waste, and the land shall be desolate' 
(Ezek. xii. 19, 20). 

The sheikh of Bozrah told me that his flocks would not be 
safe even in his own court-yard at night, and that armed sen- 



65 



BASH AS\ r AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



tinels had to patrol continually round their little fields at harvest- 
time. " If it were not for the castle," he said, "which has high 
walls, and a strong iron gate, we should be forced to leave 
Busrah altogether. We could not stay here a week. The 
Bedawm swarm round the ruins. They steal everything they 
can lay hold of, — goat, sheep, cow, horse, or camel; and before 
we can get on their track they are far away in the desert." 

Two or three incidents came under my own notice which 
proved the truth of the sheikh's sad statement. One day when 
examining the ruins of a large mosque, the head of a Bedawy 
appeared over an adjoining wall, looking at us. The sheikh, 
who was by my side, cried out, on seeing him, "Dog, you stole 
my sheep ! " and seizing a stone he hurled it at him with such 
force and precision as must have brained him had he not ducked 
behind the wall. The sheikh and his companions gave chase, 
but the fellow escaped. One cannot but compare such scenes, 
scenes of ordinary life, of everyday occurrence in Bashan, with 
the language of prophecy: " I will give it (the land of Israel) 
into the ha?ids of the strangers for a prey, and to the wicked of the 
earth for a spoil; .... robbers shall enter into it and defile it. .... 
The land is full of bloody crimes, and the city is full of violence'" 
(Ezek. vii. 2, 21-23). 

Bozrah was one of the strongest cities of Bashan; it was, in- 
deed, the most celebrated fortress east of the Jordan, during 
the Roman rule in Syria. Some parts of its wall are still 
almost perfect, a massive rampart of solid masonry, fifteen feet 
thick and nearly thirty high, with great square towers at intervals. 
The walled city was almost a rectangle, about a mile and a 
quarter long by a mile broad ; and outside this were large strag- 
gling suburbs. A straight street intersects the city lengthwise, 
and has a beautiful gate at each end; and other straight streets 
run across it. Roman Bozrah (or Bostra) was a beautiful city, 
with long straight avenues and spacious thoroughfares; but the 
Saracens built their miserable little shops and quaint irregular 



THE RUINS OF BOZRAH. 



6; 



houses along the sides of the streets, out and in, here and there, 
as fancy or funds directed ; and they thus converted the stately 
Roman capital, as they did Damascus and Antioch, into a 
labyrinth of narrow, crooked, gloomy lanes. One sees the 
splendid Roman palace, and gorgeous Greek temple, and shape- 
less Arab dukkan, side by side, alike in ruins, just as if the words 
of Isaiah had been written with special reference to this city of 
Moab : "He shall bring down their pride together with the spoil 
of their hands. And the fortress of the high fort of thy walls shall 
He bring down, lay low, and bring to the ground, even to the dust" 
(Isa. xxv. n, 12). 

It might perhaps be as trying to my reader's patience as it 
was to my limbs, were I to retrace with him all my wanderings 
among the ruins of Bozrah; relating every little incident and 
adventure \ and describing the wonders of art and architec- 
ture, and the curiosities of votive tablet, and dedicatory inscrip- 
tion on altar, tomb, church, and temple, which I examined and 
deciphered during these three days. Still I think many will 
wish to hear a few particulars about an old Bible city, and a 
city of so much historical importance in the latter days of Bashan's 
glory. To me and to my companions it was intensely interest- 
ing to note the changes that old city has undergone. They are 
shown in the strata of its ruins just as geological periods are 
shown in the strata of the earth's crust. Some of them are 
recorded, too, on monumental tablets, containing the legends 
of other centuries. In one spot, deep down beneath the accumu- 
lated remains of more recent buildings, I saw the simple, massive, 
primitive dwellings of the aborigines, with their stone doors and 
stone roofs. These were built and inhabited by the gigantic 
Emim and Rephaim long before the Chaldean shepherd migrated 
from Ur to Canaan (Gen. xiv. 5). High above them rose the 
classic portico of a Roman temple, shattered and tottering, but 
still grand in its ruins. Passing between the columns, I saw 
over its beautifully sculptured doorway a Greek inscription, tell- 



58 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



ing how, in the fourth century, the temple became a church, 
and was dedicated to St. John. On entering the building, the 
record of still another change appeared on the cracked plaster 
of the walls. Upon it was traced in huge Arabic characters the 
well-known motto of Islamism : — " There is no God but God, and 
Mohammed is the prophet of God" 

One of the first buildings I visited was the castle, and on my 
way to it I passed a triumphal arch, erected, as a Latin inscrip- 
tion tells us, in honour of Julius, prefect of the first Parthian 
Philippine legion. It was most likely built during the reign of 
the emperor Philip, who was a native of Bozrah. The castle 
stands on the south side of the city, without the walls; and 
forming a separate fortress, was fitted at once to defend and 
command the town. It is of great size and strength, and the 
outer walls, towers, gate, and moat are nearly perfect ; but the 
interior is ruinous. On the basement are immense vaulted 
tanks, stores, and galleries; and over them were chambers suffi- 
cient to accommodate a small army. In the very centre of the 
structure, supported on massive piers and arches, are the remains 
of a theatre. This splendid monument of the luxury and 
magnificence of former days was so designed that the spectators 
commanded a view of the city and the whole plain beyond it 
to the base of Hermon. The building is a semicircle, 270 feet 
in diameter, and open above, like all Roman theatres. It was 
no doubt intended for the amusement of the Roman garrison, 
when Bostra was the capital of a province and the headquarters 
of a legion.* 

The keep is a huge square tower, rising high above the battle- 

* This opinion has been questioned by M. Rey, an accomplished French savant, who 
in the year 1858 retraced my footsteps through Bashan, and reviewed my "Five Years in 
Damascus'''' as he went along. I had the pleasure of meeting M. Rey on several occasions, 
and was impressed alike with his gentlemanly deportment and accomplished scholarship ; 
but being an intimate friend of M. De Saulcy, whose pretended discoveries in and around 
Damascus I had criticized perhaps a little too severely, I am not surprised that he should 
make an occasional attempt at retaliation. 



DIS TA NT VIE W OF BE TH- GA MUL. 



merits, and overlooking the plains of Bashan and Moab. From 
it 1 saw that Bozrah was in ancient times connected by a series 
of great highways with the leading cities and districts in Bashan 
and Arabia. They diverge from the city in straight lines; and 
my eye followed one after another till it disappeared in the far 
distance. One ran westward to the town of Ghusam, and then 
to Edrei ; another northward to Suweideh and Damascus ; 
another north-west, up among the mountains of Bashan; another 
to Kerioth; and another eastward, straight as an arrow, to the 
castle of Salcah, which crowned a conical hill on the horizon. 
Towns and villages appeared in every direction, thickly dotting 
the vast plain; a few of those to the north are inhabited, but 
all those southward have been deserted for centuries. I ex- 
amined them long and carefully with my telescope, and their 
walls and houses appeared to be in even better preservation 
than those I had already visited. This has since been found to 
be the case, for my friend Mr. Cyril Graham visited them, pene- 
trating this wild and dangerous country as far as Um el Jemal, 
the Beth-gamul of Scripture, which I saw from Bozrah, and to 
which I called his special attention. Beth-gamul is unquestion- 
ably one of the most remarkable places east of the Jordan. It 
is as large as Bozrah. It is surrounded by high walls, and con- 
tains many massive houses built of huge blocks of basalt; their 
roofs and doors, and even the gates of the city, being formed 
of the same material. Though deserted for many centuries, the 
houses, streets, walls, and gates are in as perfect preservation as 
if the city had been inhabited until within the last few years. 
It is curious to note the change that has taken place in the 
name. What the Hebrews called " The house of the camel," 
the Arabs now call " The mother of the camel." 

I cannot tell how deeply I was impressed when looking out 
over that noble plain, rivalling in richness of soil the best of 
England's counties, thickly studded with cities, towns, and 
villages, intersected with roads, having one of the finest climates 



BASH AX AND ITS GIAXT CITIES. 



in the world; and yet utterly deserted, literally "without man, 
without inhabitant, and without beast" (Isa. xxxiii. 10). I can- 
not tell with what mingled feelings of sorrow and of joy, of 
mourning and of thanksgiving, of fear and of faith, I reflected 
on the history of that land \ and taking out my Eible compared 
its existing state, as seen with my own eyes, with the numerous 
predictions regarding it written by the Hebrew prophets. In 
their day it was populous and prosperous; the fields waved with 
corn ; the hill-sides were covered with flocks and herds ; the 
highways were thronged with wayfarers; the cities resounded 
with the continuous din of a busy population. And yet they 
wrote as if they had seen the land as I saw it from the ramparts 
of Bozrah. The Spirit of the omniscient God alone could have 
guided the hand that penned such predictions as these: "Then 
said I, Lord, how long 1 And he answered, Until the cities be 
wasted without inhabitant, and the houses without man, and the 
/and be utterly desolate, and the Lord hath removed men far azuay, 
and there be a great forsaking hi the midst of the land" (Isa. 
vi. ii, 12). u The destroyer of the Gentiles is on his way; he 
is gone forth f?-o?n his place to make thy land desolate; and thy 
cities shall be laid waste without an inhabitant" (Jer. iv. 7). 

In former times a garrison was maintained in the castle of 
Bozrah by the Pasha of Damascus, for the purpose of defending 
the southern sections of Bashan from the periodical incursions 
of the Bedawin. It has been withdrawn for many years. The 
"Destroyer of the Gentiles" can now come up unrestrained, 
"the spoilers" can now "come upon all high places through 
the wilderness," the sword now " devours from the one end of 
the land even to the other end of the land"' (Jer. xii. 12); the 
cities are " without inhabitant," the houses are " without man," 
the land is " utterly desolate," judgment has come upon it all 
far and near; in a word, the whole of Bashan and Moab is 

ONE GREAT FULFILLED PROPHECY. 

We were conducted by our intelligent guide to a large church, 



CHUR CH A ND MOSQ UE AT B OZRA H. 7 i 

apparently the ancient cathedral of Bozrah. It is built in the 
form of a Greek cross, and on the walls of the chancel are some 
remains of rude frescoes, representing saints and angels. Over 
the door is an inscription stating that the church was founded 
" by Julianus, archbishop of Bostra, in the year a.d. 513, in 
honour of the blessed martyrs Sergius, Bacchus, and Leontius." 
Our guide called the building " the church of the monk Bo- 
hiraj" and a very old tradition represents this monk as playing 
an important part in the early history of Mohammedanism. It 
is said he was a native of this city, and that, being expelled 
from his convent, he joined the Arabian prophet, and aided in 
writing the Koran, supplying all those stories from the Bible, 
the Talmud, and the spurious Gospels, which make up so large 
a part of that remarkable book. 

Not far from the church is the principal mosque, built, it is 
said, by the Khalif Omar. The roof was supported on colon- 
nades, like the early basilicas; and seventeen of the columns 
are monoliths of white marble, of great beauty. Two of them 
have inscriptions showing that they formerly belonged to some 
church, but probably they were originally intended to ornament 
a Greek temple. 

We extended our walk one day to the suburbs on the north 
and west, where there are remains of some large and splendid 
buildings. We then proceeded to the west gate, at the end of 
the main street. The ancient pavement of the street, and of 
the road which runs across' the plain to Ghusam, is quite per- 
fect, — not a stone out of place. The gate has a single but 
spacious Roman arch, ornamented with pilasters and niches. 
Outside is a guard-house of the same style and period. Sitting 
down on the broken wall of this little building, I gazed long 
on the ruins of the city, and on the vast deserted plain. My 
companions had taken shelter from a shower in a vacant niche ; 
and now there was not a human being, there was not a sign of 
life, within the range of vision. The open gate revealed heaps 



4 

12 BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 

of rubbish, and piles of stones, and shattered walls. In the 
distance a solitary column stood here and there, and the trium- 
phal arch which rose over all around it, appeared as if built to 
celebrate the triumph of Desolation. The desolation of the 
plain without was as complete as that of the city within. Never 
before had I seen such a picture of utter, terrible desolation, 
except at Palmyra ; and even there it was not so remarkable. 
That " city of the desert" might rise and flourish for a season, 
while the tide of commerce was rolling past it, and while it 
stood a solitary oasis on the desert highway uniting the eastern 
and western worlds ; but on the opening up of some other 
channel of communication, it might naturally decline and fall. 
Bozrah is altogether different. It was situated in the midst 
of a fertile plain, in the centre of a populous province. It 
had abundant resources, fountains of water, an impregnable 
fortress. Why should Bozrah become desolate 1 Who would 
have ventured to predict its ruin? It surely was no city to 
grow up in a day and fade in a night ! It surely did not 
depend for prosperity on the changeable channel of commerce ! 
Something above and beyond mere natural causes and influ- 
ences must have operated here. We can only understand its 
strange history when we read it in the light of prophecy. 
Then we can see the impress of a mightier than human hand. 
We can see that the curse of an angry God for the sin of a 
rebellious people has fallen upon Bozrah, " and upon all the 
cities of the land of Moab far and near" (Jer. xlviii. 24). 

Two Bozrahs are mentioned in the Bible. One was in Edom, 
and is referred to in the well-known passage, "Who is this that 
cometh from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah ? " (Isa. 
Ixiii. 1). Upon this ancient city judgments are pronounced in 
connection with Edom and Teman, whose inhabitants dwelt 
" in the clefts of the rocks," and the " heights of the hills," and 
made their houses " like the nests of the eagles" (Jer. xlix. 
7-22.) When pronouncing judgment upon Moab, the same 



HISTORY OF BOZRAH. 



73 



prophet says, " Judgment is come upon the plain country" 
and he names the cities which stood in the plain, and among 
them are Beth-gamul, Kerioth, and Bozrah (Jer. xlviii. 21-24). 
Evidently these predictions cannot refer to the same place. 
Another fact still more conclusively establishes the point. 
After completing the sentence of Moab, including one Bozrah, 
the Spirit of God adds, "Yet will I bring again the captivity of 
Moab in the latter days" (Jer. xlviii. 47); whereas in Edom's 
doom we have these terrible words, " For I have sworn by 
myself, saith the Lord, that Bozrah shall become a desolation, 
a reproach, a waste, and a curse \ and all the cities thereof 
shall be perpetual wastes" (Jer. xlix. 13).* 

The plain of Moab embraced a large part of the plateau east 
of the Dead Sea and the Jordan. A short time before the 
exodus the Amorites conquered the northern part of that plain ; 
and from them it was taken by the tribes of Reuben and Gad. 
It is doubtful whether the Moabites were ever completely ex- 
pelled. They probably retired for a time to the desert, and 
when Israel's power declined, returned to their old posessions. 
The predictions of Jeremiah refer to cities once held by the 
Israelites, yet in his days belonging to Moab ; hence he in- 
cludes Bozrah in the land of Moab. Subsequently, Bozrah 
became the capital of a large Roman province ; then the 
metropolitan city of Eastern Palestine, when its primate had 
thirty-three bishops under him; then it was captured by the Mo- 
hammedans, and gradually fell to ruin. Now we can see that the 
prophet's words are fulfilled, "Judgment has come upon Bozrah" 

* Modern research in this, as in many other cases, has confirmed the accuracy of Biblical 
topography. The Bozrah of Edom has been identified with the village of Buseireh, among 
the mountains north of Petra ; and here, in the plain, we have the Bozrah of Moab. I was 
somewhat surprised recently to find that the writer of the article Bozrah, in " Fairbairn's 
Dictionary of the Bible," charges me with holding the opinion of Kitto and others, that 
Bozrah of Edom, Bozrah of Moab, and modern Busrah, are identical. I never held such 
an opinion. I have always affirmed, that Bozrah of Edom and Bozrah of Moab were dis- 
tinct cities ; and had the writer of the article mentioned turned to my " Five Years in 
Damascus," vol. ii. p. 160, or to my " Handbook," or to the article Bozrah in the last 
edition of " Kitto's Cyclopedia," he would have seen this. 



74 



BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



DESERTED CITIES. 

We had not gone more than four miles from Bozrah when 
an alarm was raised. The people of Bozrah had told us, and 
we had known ourselves, that though the country on our pro- 
posed route is thickly studded with towns and villages, yet not 
a single human being dwells in them. When approaching 
the village of Burd we saw figures moving about. At first 
we thought some shepherds had taken refuge there with their 
flocks j but it very soon became apparent that the figures were 
not shepherds. Considerable numbers collected on the flat 
house-tops, and we could see horses led out and held be- 
neath the walls. They evidently saw us, and were preparing 
for an attack. We held a council of war, and resolved unani- 
mously to go forward, and if attacked to meet the enemy 
boldly. Mahmood, after examining his gun and pistols, and 
loosening his sword in its scabbard, galloped off to reconnoitre. 
A horseman came out to meet him. I confess it was rather 
an anxious moment, but it did not last long. A few words 
were spoken, and Mahmood came back with the welcome in- 
telligence that a little colony of Druses had migrated to the 
village two days previously. They were as much alarmed at 
us as we were at them. So it is always now in this unfortunate 
land, where the Ishmaelite roams free — " His hand against 
every man and every man's hand against him." Every stranger 
is looked upon as an enemy until he is proved to be a friend. 
The time and events so graphically depicted by Jeremiah have 
come : " O inhabitant of Aroer, stand by the way and espy: ask 
him that fleeth, and her that escafieth, and say, What is done ? " 
(Jer. xlviii. 19.) 

We rode on along the Roman road, stopping occasionally to 
examine with our glasses the deserted towns away to the right 
and left, and once or twice galloping to those near the road, so 
as to inspect their strange massive houses, standing complete ? 



CITY AND CASTLE OF SALCAH. 



75 



but tenantless. Often and often did our eyes sweep the open 
plain, and scan suspicious ruins, and peer into valleys, in the 
fear or hope of discovering roving Ishmaelites. We were almost 
disappointed that none appeared. 

Soon after leaving Burd, we entered a rocky district ; and 
here, among the rocks, we found some fields where a few 
Druses were ploughing, each man having his gun slung over 
his shoulders, and pistols in his belt. This is surely cultivation 
under difficulties. From this place until we reached Salcah, 
we did not see a living creature, except a flock of partridges 
and a herd of gazelles. The desert of Arabia is not more 
desolate than this rich and once populous plain of Moab. 

SALCAH. 

Joshua tells us that the kingdom of Og the giant included 
" all Bashan wito Salcah" (Josh. xiii. n, 12); and the Israel- 
ites took and occupied the whole region from Mount Hermon 
" unto Salcah." Salcah, the eastern frontier city of Bashan, 
was now before me ; its great old castle perched on the top of 
a conical hill, overlooking a boundless plain, and the city itself 
spread along its sloping sides, and reaching out into the valley 
below. I felt glad and thankful that I was privileged to reach 
the utmost eastern border of Palestine. I had previously 
explored its northern border away on the plain of Hamath and 
on the heights of Lebanon, and its western border from Tripoli 
to Joppa ; and since that time I have traversed the southern 
border from Gaza eastward. 

Salcah is one of the most remarkable cities in Palestine. It 
has been long deserted ; and yet, as nearly as I could estimate, 
five hundred of its houses are still standing, and from three to 
four hundred families might settle in it at any moment without 
laying a stone, or expending an hour's labour on repairs. The 
circumference of the town and castle together is about three 
miles. Besides the castle, a number of square towers, like the 



;6 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



belfries of churches, and a few mosques, appear to be the only 
public buildings. 

On approaching Salcah, we rode through an old cemetery, 
and then, passing the ruins of an ancient gate, entered the 
streets of the deserted city. The open doors, the empty houses, 
the rank grass and weeds, the long straggling brambles in the 
door-ways and windows, formed a strange, impressive picture 
which can never leave my memory. Street after street we 
traversed, the tread of our horses awakening mournful echoes, 
and startling the foxes from their dens in the palaces of Salcah. 
Reaching an open paved area, in front of the principal mosque, 
we committed our horses to the keeping of Mahmood, who tied 
them up, unstrung his gun, and sat down to act the part of 
sentry, while we explored the city. 

The castle occupies the summit of a steep conical hill, which 
rises to the height of some three hundred feet, and is the 
southern point of the mountain range of Bashan. Round the 
base of the hill is a deep moat, and another still deeper encircles 
the walls of the fortress. The building is a patch-work of 
various periods and nations. The foundations are Jewish, if 
not earlier; Roman rustic masonry appears above them; and 
over all is lighter Saracenic work, with beautifully interlaced 
inscriptions. The exterior walls are not much defaced, but the 
interior is one confused mass of ruins. 

The view from the top is wide and wonderfully interesting. 
It embraces the whole southern slopes of the mountains, which, 
though rocky, are covered from bottom to top with artificial 
terraces, and fields divided by stone fences. From their base 
the plain of Bashan stretches out on the west to Hermon ; the 
plain of Moab on the south, to the horizon ; and the plain of 
Arabia on the east, beyond the range of vision. For more than 
an hour I sat gazing on that vast panorama. Wherever I turned 
my eyes towns and villages were seen. Bozrah was there on 
its plain, twelve miles distant. The towers of Beth-gamul were 



DESQLA TION OF MO'AB. 7 7 

faintly visible far away on the horizon. In the vale immediately 
o the south of Salcah are several deserted towns, whose 
names I could not ascertain. Three miles off, in the same 
direction, is a hill called Abd el-Maaz, with a large deserted 
)wn on its eastern side. To the south-east an ancient road 
runs straight across the plain far as the eye can see. About 
six miles along it, on the top of a hill, is the deserted town of 
faleh. On the section of the plain between south and east I 
Dim ted fourteen towns, all of them, so far as I could see with 
my telescope, habitable like Salcah, but entirely deserted 7 From, 
lis one spot I saw upwards of thirty deserted towns ! Well 
» light I exclaim with the prophet, as I sat on the ruins of this 
great fortress, and looked over that mournful scene of utter 
desolation, " Moab is spoiled, and gone up out of her cities. .... 
Moab is confounded; for it is broken down : howl and cry; tell ye 
in Arnon that Moab is spoiled, and judgment is come upo?i the 

Main country Upon Kiriathaim, and upon Beth-gamul, and 

upon Beth-meon, and upon Kerioth, upon Bozrah, and upon all 
the "cities of the land of Moab, far and near'''' (Jer. xlviii. 
5-24). 

Another feature of the landscape impressed me still more 
deeply. Not only is the country — plain and hill-side alike — 
chequered with fenced fields, but groves of fig-trees are here 

nd there seen, and terraced vineyards still clothe the sides of 
some of the hills. These are neglected and wild, but not fruit- 

>ss. Mahmood told us that they produce great quantities of 
figs and grapes, which are rifled year after year by the Bedawin 
in their periodical raids. How literal and how true have the 
words of Jeremiah become ! " O vine of Sibmah, I will weep 
for thee with the weeping of Jazer: . ... the spoiler is fallen upon 
thy summer fruits, and upon thy vintage. And joy and gladness 
is taken from the plentiful field, and fro?n the land of Moab; and 
I have caused wine to fail from the wine-presses; none shall tread 
with shouting" (Jer. xlviii. 32, 33). Nowhere on earth is 



78 



BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



there such a melancholy example of tyranny, rapacity, and mis- 
rule, as here. Fields, pastures, vineyards, houses, villages, 
cities — all alike deserted and waste. Even the few inhabitants 
that have hid themselves among the rocky fastnesses and moun- 
tain defiles drag out a miserable existence, oppressed by rob- 
bers of the desert on the one hand, and robbers of the govern- 
ment on the other. It would seem as if the people of Moab 
had heard the injunction of Jeremiah : "O ye that dwell in 
Moab, leave the cities and dwell in the rock, and be like the dor t 
that maketh her nest in the side of the hole's mouth" And even 
thus they cannot escape, for "He that •fleeth shall fall into the 
pit ; and he that getteth up out of the pit shall be taken in the 
snare : for I will bring upon it, even upon Moab, the year of 
their visitation, saith the Lord" (Jer. xlviii. 28, 44). 



V. 

" Judgment is come upon all the cities of the land of Moab, far and near." 

Salcah is situated on the south-eastern corner of Bashan. 
Standing on the lofty battlements of its castle, Moab and Arabia 
lay before me — the former on the right, the latter on the left, 
each a boundless plain reaching from the city walls to the hori- 
zon. Behind me rose in terraced slopes the mountains of 
Bashan, and over their southern declivities the eye took in a 
wide expanse of its plain. Everywhere on that vast panorama, 
— on plain and mountain side, in Bashan, Moab, and Arabia, 
far as the eye could see and the telescope command, — were 
towns and villages thickly scattered ; and all deserted, though 
not ruined. Many people might have thought, and a few still 
believe, that there was a large amount of Eastern exaggeration 
in the language of Moses when describing the conquest of this 
country three thousand years ago : " We took all his cities at 



DESCRIPTION OF BETH- GAM UL. 



79 



that time, .... threescore cities ; all the region of Argob, the king- 
dom of Og in Bashan. All these cities were fenced with high 
walls, gates, and bars; beside unw ailed towns a great many" 
(Deut. iii. 4, 5). No man who has traversed Bashan, or who 
has climbed the hill of Salcah, will ever again venture to bring 
such a charge against the sacred historian. The walled cities, 
with their ponderous gates of stone, are there now as they were 
when the Israelites invaded the land. The great numbers of 
unwalled towns are there too, standing testimonies to the truth 
and accuracy of Moses, and monumental protests against the 
poetical interpretations of modern rationalists. There are the 
roads once thronged by the teeming population; there are the 
fields they enclosed and cultivated ; there are the terraces they 
built up ; there are the vineyards and orchards they planted ; 
all alike desolate, not poetically or ideally, but literally " with- 
out man, and without inhabitant, and without beast." 

My friend Mr. Cyril Graham, who followed so far in my track, 
and who was the first of European travellers to penetrate those 
plains beyond, which I have been trying to describe, bears his 
testimony to the literal fulfilment of prophecy. Some of his 
descriptions of what he saw are exceedingly interesting and 
graphic; and one is only sorry they are so very brief. Of 
Beth-gamul he says : " On reaching this city, I left my Arabs 
at one particular spot, and wandered about quite alone in the 
old streets of the town, entered one by one the old houses, 
went up stairs, visited the rooms, and, in short, made a careful 
examination of the whole place ; but so perfect was every street, 
every house, every room, that I almost fancied I was in a dream, 
wandering alone in this city of the dead, seeing all perfect, yet 
not hearing a sound. I don't wish to moralize too much, but 
one cannot help reflecting on a people once so great and so 
powerful, who, living in these houses of stone within their walled 
cities, must have thought themselves invincible; who had their 
palaces and their sculptures, and who, no doubt, claimed to be 



So 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



the great nation, as all Eastern nations have done; and that 
this people should have so passed away, that for so many cen- 
turies the country they inhabited has been reckoned as a desert, 
until some traveller from a distant land, curious to explore these 
regions, finds these old towns standing alone, and telling of a 
race long gone by, whose history is unknown, and whose very 
name is matter of dispute. Yet this very state of things is pre- 
dicted by Jeremiah. Concerning this very country he says 
these very words, — ' For the cities thereof shall be desolate, with- 
out any to dwell therein' (Jer. xlviii. 9) ; and the people 
(Moab) ' shall be destroyed from being a people' (ver. 42). Here 
I think there can be no ambiguity. Visit these ancient cities, 
and turn to that ancient Book — no further comment is neces- 
sary." 

No less than eieve?i of the old cities which I saw from Salcah, 
lying between Bozrah and Beth-gamul, were visited by Mr. 
Graham. Their ramparts, their houses, their streets, their gates 
and doors, are nearly all perfect; and yet they are " desolate, 
without man." This enterprising and daring traveller also made 
a long journey into the hitherto unexplored country east of the 
mountains of Bashan. There he found ancient cities, and 
roads, and vast numbers of inscriptions in unknown characters, 
but not a single inhabitant. The towns and villages east of 
the mountain range are all, without exception, deserted; the 
soil is uncultivated, and " the highways lie waste." In the 
whole of those vast plains, north and south, east and west, 
Desolation reigns supreme. The cities, the highways, the 
vineyards, the fields, are all alike silent as the grave, except 
during the periodical migrations of the Bedawin, whose flocks, 
herds, and people eat, trample down, and waste all before them. 
The long predicted doom of Moab is now fulfilled: " The 
spoiler shall come upon every city, and no city shall escape: the 
valley also shall perish, and the plain shall be destroyed, as the 
Lord hath spoken. Give wings unto Moab, that it may flee and 



FULFILMENT OF PROPHECY. 



Si 



get away; for the cities thereof shall be desolate, without any to 
dwell therein.'" .... But why should I transcribe more? Why 
should I continue to compare the predictions of the Bible with 
the state of the country 1 ? The harmony is complete. No tra- 
veller can possibly fail to see it; and no conscientious man can 
fail to acknowledge it. The best, the fullest, the most instruc- 
tive commentary I ever saw on the forty-eighth chapter of Jere- 
miah, was that inscribed by the finger of God on the panorama 
spread out around me as I stood on the battlements of the 
castle of Salcah. 

It was a sad and solemn scene, — a scene of utter and terrible 
desolation, — the result of sin and folly; and yet I turned away 
from it with much reluctance. I would gladly have seen more 
of those old cities, and penetrated farther into that uninhabited 
plain. A tempting field lay there for the ecclesiastical anti- 
quarian and the student of sacred history; but the time was 
not suitable for such a journey, and other duties summoned 
me away.* 

Remounting our horses we rode along the silent streets and 
passed out of the deserted gates into the desolate country. 
After winding down the steep hill-side amid mounds of rubbish 
we halted in the centre of an ancient cemetery to take a last 
look of Salcah. The castle rose high over us on the crest 
of its conical hill, while the towers, walls, and terraced houses 
of the city extended in a serried line down the southern decli- 
vity to the plain, where they met the old gardens and vineyards. 
Everything seemed so complete, so habitable, so life-like, that 
once and again I looked and examined as the question rose in 
my mind, " Can this city be totally deserted?" Yes, it was so; 
— "without man, and without beast." 

* Another traveller has oflate traversed part of Bashan, and penetrated the desert east- 
ward. I refer to Dr. J. G. Wetzstein, whom I had the pleasure of knowing as Prussian 
consul in Damascus. His little work, Reisebericht iibcr Hauran und die TracJionen, 
Berlin, i860, is interesting and instructive. It contains the fullest account hitherto pub- 
lished of that remarkable region, the Safa. 



82 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



" Slumber is there, but not of rest : 
Here her forlorn and weary nest 

The famishM hawk has found. 
The wild dog howls at fall of night, 
The serpent's rustling coils affright 

The traveller on his round." 

KERIOTH. 

We turned westward to Kerioth, and soon fell into the line 
of the ancient road, its pavement in many places perfect, though 
here and there torn up and swept away by mountain torrents. 
On our right, about two miles distant, lay Ayun, a deserted city 
as large as Salcah. Kuweiris, Ain, Muneiderah, and many 
others were visible, — some in quiet green vales, some perched 
like fortresses on the sides and summits of rugged hills. The 
country through which our route lay was very rocky; but though 
now desolate, the signs of former industry are there. The loose 
stones have been gathered into great heaps, and little fields 
formed; and terraces can be traced along every hill-side from 
bottom to top. 

In two hours we reached Kureiyeh, and received a cordial 
welcome from its warlike Druse chief, Ismail el-Atrash. The 
town is situated in a wide valley at the south-western base of 
the mountains of Bashan. The ruins are of great extent, cover- 
ing a space at least as large as Salcah. The houses which 
remain have the same general appearance as those in other 
towns. No large public building now exists entire; but there 
are traces of many; and in the streets and lanes are numerous 
fragments of columns and other vestiges of ancient grandeur. 
I copied several Greek inscriptions bearing dates of the first 
and second centuries in our era. 

Among the cities in the plain of Moab upon which judgment 
is pronounced by Jeremiah, Kerioth occurs in connection with 
Beth-gamul and Bozrah; and here, on the side of the plain, 
only five miles distant from Bozrah, stands Kureiyeh^ manifestly 



STONE GA TES AND DOORS. 



83 



an Arabic form of the Hebrew Kerioth. Kerioth was reckoned 
one of the strongholds of the plain of Moab (Jer. xlviii. 41). 
Standing in the midst of wide-spread rock-fields, the passes 
through which could be easily defended ; and encircled by mas- 
sive ramparts, the remains of which are still there, — I saw, and 
every traveller can see, how applicable is Jeremiah's reference, 
and how strong this city must once have been. I could not 
but remark, too, while wandering through the streets and lanes, 
that the private houses bear the marks oi the most remote an- 
tiquity. The few towers and fragments of temples, which 
inscriptions show to have been erected in the first centuries of 
the Christian era, are modern in comparison with the colossal 
walls and massive stone doors of the private houses. The 
simplicity of their style, their low roofs, the ponderous blocks 
of roughly hewn stone with which they are built, the great thick- 
ness of the walls, and the heavy slabs which form the ceilings, — 
all point to a period far earlier than the Roman age, and pro- 
bably even antecedent to the conquest of the country by the 
Israelites. Moses makes special mention of the strong cities 
of Bashan, and speaks of their high walls and gates. He tells 
us, too, in the same connection, that Bashan was called the land 
of the giants (or Rephaim, Deut. iii. 13); leaving us to conclude 
that the cities were built by giants. Now the houses of Kerioth 
and other towns in Bashan appear to be just such dwellings as 
a race of giants would build. The walls, the roofs, but espe- 
cially the ponderous gates, doors, and bars, are in every way 
characteristic of a period when architecture was in its infancy, 
when giants were masons, and when strength and security were 
the grand requisites. I measured a door in Kerioth : it was 
nine feet high, four and a half feet wide, and ten inches thick, 
— one solid slab of stone. I saw the folding gates of another 
town in the mountains still larger and heavier. Time produces 
little effect on such buildings as these. The heavy stone slabs 
of the roofs resting on the massive walls make the structure as 



84 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



firm as if built of solid masonry; and the black basalt used is 
almost as hard as iron. There can scarcely be a doubt, there- 
fore, that these are the very cities erected and inhabited by the 
Rephaim, the aboriginal occupants of Bashan; and the language 
of Ritter appears to be true : " These buildings remain as eternal 
witnesses of the conquest of Bashan by Jehovah." 

We have thus at Kerioth and its sister cities some of the 
most ancient houses of which the world can boast ; and in look- 
ing at them and wandering among them, and passing night after 
night in them, my mind was led away back to the time, now 
nearly four thousand years ago, when the kings of the East 
warred with the Rephaim in Ashteroth-Karnaim, and with the 
Emim in the plain of Kiriathaim (Gen. xiv. 5). Some of the 
houses in which I slept were most probably standing at the 
period of that invasion. How strange to occupy houses of which 
giants were the architects, and a race of giants the original 
owners ! The temples and tombs of Upper Egypt are of great 
interest, as the works of one of the most enlightened nations of 
antiquity ; the palaces of Nineveh are still more interesting, as 
the memorials of a great city which lay buried for two thousand 
years ; but the massive houses of Kerioth scarcely yield in in- 
terest to either. They are antiquities of another kind. In size 
they cannot vie with the temples of Karnac ; in splendour they 
do not approach the palaces of Khorsabad ; yet they are the 
memorials of a race of giant warriors that has been extinct for 
more than three thousand years, and of which Og, king of. 
Bashan, was one of the last representatives ; and they are, I 
believe, the only specimens in the world of the ordinary private 
dwellings of remote antiquity. The monuments designed by 
the genius and reared by the wealth of imperial Rome are fast 
- mouldering to ruin in this land; temples, palaces, tombs, 
fortresses, are all shattered, or prostrate in the dust ; but the 
simple, massive houses of the Rephaim are in many cases perfect 
as if only completed yesterday. 



THE HOUSES OF THE REPHAIM. 



§5 



It is worthy of note here, as tending to prove the truth of my 
statements, and to illustrate the words of the sacred writers, that 
the towns of Bashan were considered ancient even in the days 
of the Roman historian Ammianus Marcellinus, who says re- 
garding this country : " Fortresses and strong castles have been 
erected by the ancient inhabitants among the retired mountains 
and forests. Here in the midst of numerous towns, are some 
great cities, such as Bostra and Gerasa, encompassed by massive 
wails." Mr. Graham, the only other traveller since Burckhardt, 
who traversed eastern Bashan, entirely agrees with me in my 
conclusions. " When we find," he writes, " one after another, 
great stone cities, walled and unwalled, with stone gates, and 
so crowded together that it becomes almost a matter of wonder 
how all the people could have lived in so small a place ; when 
we see houses built of such huge and massive stones that no 
force which can be brought against them in that country could 
ever batter them down ; when we find rooms in these houses so 
large and lofty that many of them would be considered fine, 
rooms in a palace in Europe ; and, lastly, when we find some 
of these towns bearing the very names which cities in that 
very country bore before the Israelites came out of Egypt, I 
think we cannot help feeling the strongest conviction that we 
have before us the cities of the Rephaim of which we read in 
the Book of Deuteronomy." 

Kerioth is a frontier town. It is on the confines of the un- 
inhabited plain, where the fierce Ishmaelite roams at will, " his 
hand against every man." The Druses of Kerioth are all armed, 
and they always carry their arms. With their goats on the hill- 
side, with their yokes of oxen in the field, with their asses or 
camels on the road, at all hours, in all places, their rifles are 
slung, their swords by their side, and their pistols in their belts. 
Their daring chief, too, goes forth on his expeditions equipped 
in a helmet of steel and a coat of linked mail. In this respect 
also the words of prophecy are fulfilled : " Moab hath been at 



S6 



BASHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



ease from his youth. . . . Therefore, behold, the days come, saith 
the Lord, that / will send unto him wanderers, that shall cause 
him to wa?ider, and shall empty his vessels, and break his bottles " 
(Jer. xlviii. 12). What could be more graphic than this? The 
wanderi?ig Bedawin are now the scourge of Moab ; they cause 
the few inhabitants that remain in it to settle down amid the 
fastnesses of the rocks and mountains, and often to wander from 
city to city, in the vain hope of finding rest and security. 

THE MOUNTAINS AND OAKS OF BASHAN. 

Leaving Kerioth I turned my back on Moab's desolate plain, 
and began to climb the Mountains of Bashan. Bleak and rocky 
at the base, they soon assume bolder outlines and exhibit grander 
features. Ravines cut deeply into their sides ; bare cliffs shoot 
out from tangled jungles of dwarf ilex, woven together with 
brambles and creeping plants ; pointed cones of basalt, strewn 
here and there with cinders and ashes, tower up until a wreath 
of snow is wound round their heads ; straggling trees of the 
great old oaks of Bashan dot thinly the lower declivities, higher 
up little groves of them appear, and higher still, around the 
loftiest peaks, are dense forests. Our road was a goat-track, 
which wound along the side of a brawling mountain torrent, 
now scaling a dizzy crag high over it, and now diving down 
again till the spray of its miniature cascades dashed over our 
horses. For nearly two hours we rode up that wild and pictur- 
esque mountain side. We passed several small villages perched 
like fortresses on projecting cliffs, and we saw other larger ones 
in the distance ; they are all deserted ; and during those two 
hours we did not meet, nor see, nor hear a human being. 
We saw partridges among the rocks, and eagles sweeping in 
graceful circles round the mountain tops, and two or three foxes 
and one hyena, startled from their lairs by the sound of our 
horses' feet ; but we saw no man, no herd, no flock. The time 
of judgment predicted by Isaiah has surely come to this part of 



DRUSE HOSPITALITY. 



87 



the land of Israel : " Behold, the Lord maketh the land empty, 
and maketh it waste, and turneth it upside down, and scattereth 
abroad the inhabitants thereof. The land shall be utterly emptied, 
and utterly spoiled ; for the Lord hath spoken this word " (Isa. 
xxiv. 1, 3). 

On one of the southern peaks of the mountain range, some 
two thousand feet above the vale of Kerioth, stands the town 
of Hebran. Its shattered walls and houses looked exceedingly 
picturesque, as we wound up a deep ravine, shooting out far 
overhead from among the tufted foliage of the evergreen oak. 
Our little cavalcade was seen approaching, and ere we reached 
the brow of the hill the whole population had come out to meet 
and welcome us. The sheikh, a noble-looking young Druse, 
had already sent a man to bring a kid from the nearest flock to 
make a feast for us, and we saw him bounding away through 
an opening in the forest. He returned in half an hour with the 
kid on his shoulder. We assured the hospitable sheikh that it 
was impossible for us to remain. Our servants were already far 
away over the plain, and we had a long journey before us. He 
would listen to no excuse. The feast must be prepared. " My 
lord could not pass by his servant's house without honouring 
him by eating a morsel of bread, and partaking of the kid which 
is being made ready. The sun is high ; the day is long ; rest 
for a time under my roof ; eat and drink, and then pass on in 
peace." There was so much of the true spirit of patriarchal 
hospitality here, so much that recalled to mind scenes in the 
life of Abraham (Gen. xviii. 2), and Manoah (Judges xiii. 15), 
and other Scripture celebrities, that we found it hard to refuse. 
Time pressed, however, and we were reluctantly compelled to 
leave before the kid was served. 

In the town of Hebran are many objects of interest. The 
ruins of a beautiful temple, built in a.d. 155, and of several 
other public edifices, are strewn over the summit and rugged 
sides of the hill. But the simple, massive, primeval houses were 



88 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



to us objects of greater attraction. Many of them are perfect, 
and in them the modern inhabitants find ample and comfortable 
accommodation. The stone doors appeared even more massive 
than those of Kerioth ; and we found the walls of the houses 
in some instances more than seven feet thick. Hebran must 
have been one of the most ancient cities of Bashan. The view 
from it is magnificent. The whole country, from Kerioth 
to Bozrah, and from Bozrah to Salcah, was spread out before 
me like an embossed map ; while away beyond, east, south, and 
west, the panorama stretched to the horizon. Two miles below 
me, on a projecting ridge, lay the deserted town of Afineh, 
thought by some to be the ancient Ashteroth-Karnaim ; about 
three miles eastward the grey towers of Sehweh, a large town 
and castle, rose up from the midst of a dense oak forest. About 
the same distance northward is Kufr, another town whose walls 
still stand, and its stone gates, about ten feet high, remain in their 
places. Yet the town is deserted. Truly one might repeat, in 
every part of Bashan, the remarkable words of Isaiah : " In the 
city is left desolation ; and the gate is smitten with destruction " 
(Isa. xxiv. 12). We observed in wandering through Hebran, 
as we had done previously at Kerioth and other cities, that the 
large buildings, — temples, palaces, churches, and mosques, — 
are now universally used as folds for sheep and cattle. We saw 
hundreds of animals in the palaces of Kerioth, and the large 
buildings of Hebran were so filled with their dung that we could 
scarcely walk through them. This also was foreseen and foretold 
by the Hebrew prophets : " The defenced city shall be desolate, 
and left like a wilderness ; there shall the calf feed, and there shall 
he lie down. . . . The palaces shall be forsaken, .... the forts and 
towers shall be for dens for ever, a joy of wild asses, a pasture of 
Hocks" (Isa xxvii. 10 ; xxxii. 14). And of Moab Isaiah says : 
'• The cities of Aroer are forsaken; they shall be for flocks, which 
shall lie down, and none shall make them afraid " (Isa. xvii. 2). 
From Hebran we rode along the mountain side in a north- 



TESTIMONY TO THE ACCURACY OF SCRIPTURE. 89 



westerly direction, crossing a Roman road which formerly con- 
nected the capital, Bozrah, with Kufr, Kanterah, and other 
large towns among the mountains. It is now " desolate" like 
all the highways of Bashan, and in places completely covered 
over with the branches of oak trees and straggling brambles. 
In an hour we passed a group of large villages, occupied by a 
few families of Druses. Here, too, we found that the largest 
houses are now used as stables for camels and folds for sheep. 
Continuing to descend the terraced but desolate hill-sides, 
crossing several streamlets flowing through picturesque glens, 
and leaving a number of deserted villages to the right and left, 
we at length reached Suweideh, which we had previously visited 
on our way to Bozrah. 

I had now crossed over the southern section of the ridge, 
and had completed my short tour among the mountains of 
Bashan. It was not without feelings of regret that, after a visit 
so brief, I was about to turn away from this interesting region, 
most probably for ever. I felt glad, however, that I had been 
privileged to visit, even for so brief a period, a country renowned 
in early history, and sacred as one of the first provinces be- 
stowed by God on his ancient people. The freshness and 
picturesque beauty of the scenery, the extent and grandeur of 
the ruins, the hearty and repeated welcomes of the people, the 
truly patriarchal hospitality with which I was everywhere enter- 
tained, but, above all, the convincing, overwhelming testimony 
afforded at every step to the minute accuracy of Scripture his- 
tory, and the literal fulfilment of prophecy, filled my mind with 
such feelings of joy and of thankfulness as I had never before 
experienced. I had often read of Bashan, — how the Lord had 
delivered into the hands of the tribe of Manasseh, Og, its giant 
king, and all his people. I had observed the statement that a 
single province of his kingdom, Argob, contained threescore great 
cities, fenced with high walls, gates, and bars, besides unwaUed 
towns a great many. I had examined my map, and had found 



90 



BASHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



that the whole of Bashan is not larger than an ordinaiy English 
county. I confess I was astonished ; and though my faith in 
the Divine Record was not shaken, yet I felt that some strange 
statistical mystery hung over the passage, which required to be 
cleared up. That one city, nurtured by the commerce of a 
mighty empire, might grow till her people could be numbered 
by millions, I could well believe ; that two or even three great 
commercial cities might spring up in favoured localities, almost 
side by side, I could believe too. But that sixty walled cities, 
besides unwalled towns a great mcrny, should exist in a small 
province, at such a remote age, far from the sea, with no rivers 
and little commerce, appeared to be inexplicable. Inexplicable, 
mysterious though it appeared, it was true. On the spot, with 
my own eyes, I had now verified it. A list of more than one 
hundred ruined cities and villages, situated in these mountains 
alone, I had in my hands ; and on the spot I had tested it, 
and found it accurate, though not complete. More than thirty 
of these I had myself visited or passed close by. Many others 
I had seen in the distance. The extent of some of them I 
measured, and have already stated. Of their high antiquity I 
could not, after inspecting them, entertain a doubt ; and I have 
explained why. Here, then, we have a venerable Record, 
more than three thousand years old, containing incidental de- 
scriptions, statements, and statistics, which few men would be 
inclined to receive on trust, which not a few are now attempt- 
ing to throw aside as " glaring absurdities," and " gross ex- 
aggerations," and yet which close and thorough examination 
proves to be accurate in the most minute details. Here, again, 
are prophecies of ruin and utter desolation, pronounced and 
recorded when this country was in the height of its prosperity, 
— when its vast plains waved with corn, when its hill-sides 
were clothed with vineyards, when its cities and villages re- 
sounded with the busy hum of a teeming population ; and now, 
after my survey of Bashan, if I were asked to describe the 



' ARGOB" OF SCRIPTURE. 



Gl 



present state of plains, mountains, towns, and villages, I could 
not possibly select language more appropriate, more accurate, 
or more graphic, than the language of these very prophecies. 
My unalterable conviction is, that the eye of the Omniscient 
God alone could have foreseen a doom so terrible as that which 
has fallen on Moab and Bashan. 

ARGOB. 

From Suweideh I rode north-west across the noble plain 
of Bashan, passing in succession the villages of Welgha, 
Rimeh, Mezraah, and Sijn, and seeing many others away on 
the right and left. Most of them contain a few families of 
Druses ; but not one-tenth of the habitable houses in them are 
inhabited. These houses are in every respect similar to those 
in the mountains. I was now approaching the remarkable 
province of Lejah, the ancient Argob, properly so called. A 
four hours' ride brought me to Nejran, whose massive black 
walls and heavy square towers rise up lonely and desolate from 
the midst of a wilderness of rocks. The town has still a com- 
paratively large population ; that is, there are probably a hun- 
dred families settled in the old houses, which cover a space 
more than two miles in circumference. It contains a number 
of public buildings, the largest of which is a church, dedicated, 
as a Greek inscription informs us, in the year a.d. 564. 

Nejran stands just within the southern border of the Lejah. 
Around the city, and far as I could see westward and north- 
ward, was one vast wilderness of rocks here piled up in 
shapeless, jagged masses ; there spread out in flat, rugged 
fields, intersected by yawning fissures and chasms. The Bible 
name of the province, Argob* "the Stony," is strikingly de- 

* Argob appears to have been the home of the warlike tribe of Geshurites. Absalom's 
mother was Maacah, daughter of Talmai, king of Geshur (2 Sam. iii. 3) ; and when he slew 
his brother Amnon he fled, " and went to Geshur, and was there three years " (xiii. 38). 
Probably much of Absalom's wild and wayward spirit may be attributed to maternal 
training, and to the promptings of his relatives the Geshurites. 



9 2 



BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



scriptive of its physical features. I made a vigorous effort to 
penetrate to the interior of the Lejah, in order to visit those 
strange old cities which I saw in the distance from the towers 
of Nejran, and of which I had heard so much ; but no one 
would undertake to guide me, and the Druses absolutely refused 
to be responsible for my safety should I make the attempt. 
The Lejah, in fact, is the sanctuary, the great natural stronghold 
of the people. When fleeing from the Bedawln, and when in 
rebellion against the government, they find themselves perfectly 
safe in its rocky recesses. They are consequently jealous of 
all strangers, and they will not, under any ordinary circum- 
stances, guide travellers through its intricate and secret passes. 
Argob, Trachonitis, or Lejah, — for by each name has it been 
successively called, — has been an asylum for all malefactors and 
refugees ever since the time when Absalom fled to it after the 
murder of his brother. 

Being prevented from passing through the centre of the 
Lejah, we turned westward to Edrei, hoping to be more fortu- 
nate in obtaining guides there. The path along which we were 
led was intricate, difficult, and in places even dangerous. We 
had often to scramble over smooth ledges of basalt, where our 
horses could scarcely keep their feet ; and these were separated 
by deep fissures and chasms, here and there half filled with 
muddy water. A stranger would have sought in vain for the 
road, if road it can be called. In half an hour we reached the 
plain; and then continued to ride along the side of the Lejah, 
whose boundary resembles the rugged line of broken cliffs 
which gird a great part of the eastern coast of England. 
The Hebrew name given to it in the Bible is most appropriate, 
and shows how observant the sacred writers were. The word 
is Chebel, signifying literally " a rope," but which describes with 
singular accuracy the remarkably defined boundary line which 
encircles the whole province like a rocky shore. 

We passed in succession the deserted towns of Kiratah, 



THE CITY OF EDREL 



93 



Taarah, and Duweireh, all built within the Lejah ; and we saw 
many others on the plain to the left, and among the rocks on 
the right. We entered the town of Busr el-Hariry, but were 
received with such scowling looks and savage threats and curses 
by its Moslem inhabitants, that we were glad to effect our 
escape. We now felt that on leaving the Druse territory we 
had left hospitality and welcome behind, and that henceforth 
outbursts of Moslem fanaticism awaited us everywhere. 

EDREI. 

Soon after leaving Busr, the towers of Edrei came in sight, 
extending along the summit of a projecting ledge of rocks in 
front, and running some distance into the interior of the Lejah 
on the right. Crossing a deep ravine, and ascending the rugged 
ridge of rocks by a winding path like a goat track, we came 
suddenly on the ruins of this ancient city. The situation is 
most remarkable : — without a single spring of living water ; 
without river or stream ; without access, except over rocks and 
through defiles all but impassable ; without tree or garden. In 
selecting the site, everything seems to have been sacrificed to 
security and strength. Shortly after my arrival I went up to 
the terraced roof of a house, to obtain a general view of the 
ruins. Their aspect was far from inviting ; it was wild and 
savage in the extreme. The huge masses of shattered masonry 
could scarcely be distinguished from the rocks that encircle 
them ; and all, ruins and rocks alike, are black, as if scathed 
by lightning. I saw several square towers, and remains of 
temples, churches, and mosques, The private houses are low, 
massive, gloomy, and manifestly of the highest antiquity. The 
inhabitants are chiefly Moslems; but as there is a little Christian 
community, we selected the house of their sheikh as our tem- 
porary residence. 

Under the guidance of our host, we went out in the afternoon 

to inspect the principal buildings of the city. A crowd of 
(10) 7 



94 



BASH AN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



fanatical Moslems gathered round, and followed us wherever 
we went, trying every means to annoy and insult us. We paid 
no attention to them, and hoped thus to escape worse treat- 
ment. Unfortunately our hopes were vain. I was suddenly 
struck down by a blow of a club while copying an inscription. 
The crowd then rushed upon us in a body with stones, clubs, 
swords, and knives. I was separated from my companions, 
pursued by some fifty or sixty savages, all thirsting for my 
blood. After some hard struggles, which I cannot look back 
to even yet without a shudder, I succeeded in reaching our 
temporary home. Here I found my companions, like myself, 
severely wounded, and almost faint from loss of blood. Our 
Druse guard defended the house till midnight, and then, thanks 
to a merciful Providence, we made our escape from Edrei. 

Edrei was the capital city of the giant Og. On the plain 
beside it he marshalled his forces to oppose the advancing host 
of the Israelites. He fell, his army was totally routed, and 
Edrei was taken by the conquerors (Num. xxi. 33; Deut. iii. 
1-4). Probably it did not remain long in the hands of the 
Israelites, for we hear no more of it in the Bible. The monu- 
ments now found in it show that it was one of the most im- 
portant cities of Bashan in the time of the Romans. After the 
Saracenic conquest, it gradually dwindled down from a metro- 
politan city to a poor village; and now, though the ruins are 
some three miles in circuit, it does not contain more than five 
hundred inhabitants. How applicable are the words of Ezekiel 
both to the physical and to the social state of Edrei ! " Thus 
saith the Lord, . . . Behold, I, even I, will bring a sword upon 
you, and I will destroy your high places In all your dwelling- 
places the cities shall be laid waste, and the high places shall be 
desolate " (Ezek. vi. 3, 6). " I will bring the worst of the heathe?t, 

and they shall possess their houses Say unto the people 

of the land, Thus saith the Lord God, .... They shall eat their 
bread with carefulness, and drink their water with astonish- 



" WILD BEASTS OF THE DESERT:' 



95 



ment, .... because of the violence of all them that dwell therein. 
Every one that passeth thereby shall be astonished" (Ezek. 
vii. 24 ; xii. 19, &c.) 

In darkness and silence we rode out of Edrei. For more 
than an hour we were led through rugged and intricate paths 
among the rocks, scarcely venturing to hope that we should 
ever reach the plain in safety. We did reach it, however, and 
with grateful hearts we rode on, guided by the stars. Before 
long we were again entangled in the rocky mazes of this wild 
region, and resolved, after several vain attempts to get out, to 
wait for daylight. The night wind was cold, bitterly cold ; my 
wounds were stiff and painful ; and there was no shelter from 
the blast save that of the shattered rocks. The spot, too, was 
neither safe nor pleasant for a bivouac. The mournful howl 
of the jackal, the sharp ringing bark of the wolf, and the savage 
growl of the hyena, were heard all round us. Gradually they 
came nearer and closer. Our poor horses quivered in every 
limb. We were forced to keep marching round them ; for we 
saw, by the bright star-light and the flashing eyes, that the 
rocks on every side were tenanted with enemies almost as 
dangerous and bloodthirsty as the men of Edrei. There I 
knew for the first time what it was to spend a night with the 
wild beasts ; and there I had, too, a practical and painful illus- 
tration of Isaiah's remarkable prediction, " 21ie wild beasts of 
the desert shall also meet with the wild beasts of the island, and the 
satyr shall cry to his fellow" &c. (Isa. xxxiv. 14.) 

Day-light came at last — not with the slow, stealing step of 
the West, but with the swiftness and beauty of Eastern climes. 
Mounting our jaded horses, we rode on between huge black 
stones and crags of naked rock. Climbing to the top of a little 
hill, we got a wide view over the Lejah. I could only compare 
it to the ruins of a Cyclopean city prostrate and desolate. 
There was not one pleasing feature. The very trees that grow 
amid the rocks have a blasted look. Yet, strange as it may 



9 6 



B A SHAN AND ITS GIANT CITIES. 



seem, this forbidding region is thickly studded with ancient 
towns and villages, long ago deserted. Passing through the 
Lejah to the town of Khubab, we rode on northward along its 
border, leaving the towns of Hazkin, Eib, Musmieh, and others, 
on our right. They are all deserted, and there is not a single 
inhabited spot east of Khubab. The rich and beautiful plain 
on the north of the Lejah is now desolate as the Lejah itself, 
and in a ride of ten miles we did not see a human being. We 
pursued our route to Deir Ali, and thence over the Pharpar, at 
Kesweh, to Damascus. 

Thus ended my tour through eastern Bashan, and my explora- 
tions of its giant cities. 



THE JORDAN AND THE DEAD SEA. 




" O my God, .... I will remember thee from the land of Jordan, and of the Hermonites, 
from the hill Mizar." — Ps. xlii. 6. 

HERE is no river in the world like the Jordan ; — none 
so wonderful in its historic memories, none so hallowed 
in its sacred associations, and none so remarkable in 
its physical geography. It is the river of the Holy Land. 
It has been more or less intimately connected with all the great 
events of Scripture history from the patriarchs to the apostles. 
Its banks have been the scene of the most stupendous miracles 
of judgment, power, and love, ever the earth witnessed. When 
the fire of heaven had burnt up Sodom's guilty cities and 
polluted plain, the waters of the Jordan rolled over them and 
buried them for ever from the face of man. Thrice was the 
swollen torrent of that river stayed, and its channel divided to 
let God's people and prophets pass over " dry shod." Once, at 
the bidding of the man of God, the iron axe rose buoyant from 
its channel, and floated on its surface. Once its waters gave 
forth healing virtue, as if to prove to the proud Syrian chief the 
fallacy of his sneering exclamation, — " Are not Abana and 
Pharpar rivers of Damascus better than all the waters of Israel?" 
Greater still were those miracles of our Lord which the evan- 
gelists have grouped thickly on and around the central lake of 
the Jordan. There did the storm -tossed billows hear and obey 
the voice of their Creator; there did the incarnate God walk upon 
the face of the deep; there, obedient to His will, the fishes filled 



ioo THE JORDAN AND THE DEAD SEA. 

the disciples' nets; along those shores the lame walked, the deaf 
heard, the blind saw, the sick were healed, lepers were cleansed, 
the dead were raised to life again. But the most glorious event 
the Jordan ever witnessed was Christ's baptism ; for when he 
was baptized, " the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw 
the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon 
him;" and when the Divine Son was perfectly equipped for his 
great work of redeeming love — when just about to set out on 
his glorious mission — the voice of the Divine Father pierces the 
vault of heaven, and proclaims to the astonished and joyful 
disciples on Jordan's banks the divine approval of both work 
and worker, — " This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well 
pleased." Surely, then, we may say that every spot along this 
stream is " holy ground," and that the name Jordan is not only 
emblazoned on the page of history, but enshrined in the Chris- 
tian's heart. 

It would almost seem as if nature or nature's God had from 
the first prepared this river to be the scene of wondrous events, 
by giving to its physical geography some wondrous character- 
istics. Its principal fountain, bursting from the base of Hermon, 
is, like the mouths of other rivers, on the level of the ocean* It 
descends rapidly through its whole course, and at length empties 
into the Dead Sea, whose surface has a depression of no less than 
13 1 2 feet. The whole valley of the Jordan is thus a huge rent 
or fissure in the earth's crust. Though it is not much over a 
hundred miles in length, at its southern end, along the shores 
of that mysterious lake, we have the climate and products of 
the tropics, while at its northern end on the brow of Hermon, 
we have a region of perpetual snow. 



* Some geographers give the fountain of Dan an elevation of 600, others 500, others 300 
feet ; but these seem to be erroneous, as I have shown in the article Jordan, in " Kitto's 
Cyclopaedia," last edition. 



THE FOUNTAINS. 



101 



THE FOUNTAINS. 

It was on a bright and cloudless summer day I first visited 
the fountains of the Jordan. On the preceding night I slept 
on a snow wreath, on the very peak of Hermon. Beside me, 
in a hollowed rock, the fire of Baal had often burnt in bygone 
ages, and around me were the great stones of Baal's altar and 
the shattered ruins of a later temple. There I was enabled to 
prove for the first time how accurate was the name given to 
this mount by the sacred writers, Baal-Hermon (Judg. iii. 3 ; 
1 Chron. v. 23). A noble spot that was for the worship of the 
great fire-god. His priests could see the sun rising from the 
eastern desert long before his beams lighted up the plains below, 
and they could see him sinking slowly in the western sea long 
after he had set to the shores of Phoenicia; and then at night, 
on that commanding peak, they could kindle a flame whose 
light would flash far and wide over Syria and Palestine. Wish- 
ing to realize something of the grandeur of those old Baal-fires, 
we gathered a great quantity of the dry prickly shrubs that 
cover the mountain sides, piled them up on the rock where the 
fire used to burn, and applied a match. The air was perfectly 
still, and the flame seemed to shoot up into the very heavens, 
while Hermon's icy crown gleamed and glittered in the ruddy 
light. 

The descent from the top of Hermon to the fountains of the 
Jordan was as if one had travelled in a single day from Green- 
land to the equator. The heat was most oppressive when, 
emerging from a wild mountain glen, we entered the marshy 
plain of Merom. Away in front our guide pointed out a little 
isolated tell, apparently in the centre of the great plain, — 
" That," said he, " is Tell el-kady." We were soon beside 
it, and tying up my horse beneath the shade of a noble 
oak — a straggler from the forests of Bashan — I set out to. 
explore. 



ro2 THE JORDAN AND THE DEAD SEA. 

DAN. 

The tell is cup-shaped, like an extinct crater, which it per 
haps may be, for the stones of the surrounding plain are volcanic. 
From its western base bursts forth one of the largest fountains in 
Syria, its waters forming a miniature lake, and then rushing off 
across the plain southward a deep rapid river. Within the tell, be- 
neath the branches of the great oak, is a smaller fountain, whose 
stream breaks through the circling rim, and foaming down the 
side, joins its sister. This is the principal source of the Jordan. 

But the tell, has it no name in history, no story or legend to 
attract the notice of the passing pilgrim or the Bible student 1 
It had once a historic name, which is not yet quite gone ; and 
its story is a long and a sad one. I wandered over it wher- 
ever it was possible to go. I found a few heaps of rubbish 
and old building stones, a few remains of massive founda- 
tions, a few fragments of columns almost buried in the 
soil, vast thickets of thorns, briars, and gigantic thistles, some 
impenetrable jungles of cane and thorn bushes, but nothing 
else; and yet this is the site of the great border city of Dan. 
Upon this hill Jeroboam built a temple, and set up in its shrine 
one of his golden calves, thus polluting that "Holy Land" 
which the Lord gave in covenant promise to the seed of Abraham. 
Therefore has the curse come upon Dan. Though one of the 
noblest sites in Palestine, though encompassed by a plain of 
unrivalled fertility, it and its plain are now alike desolate. The 
prophetic curse is fulfilled to the letter, — "In all your dtuelli?ig- 
places the cities shall be laid waste, and the high places shall be 
desolate; that your altars may be laid waste and made desolate, 
and your idols may be broken and cease, and your works may be 
abolished" (Ezek. vi. 6). 

It is interesting to note how the old name clings to the spot 
still, though in an Arabic translation. Tell el-kddy signifies 
" the hill of the judge," and the Hebrew word Dan means 
"judge" (Gen. xlix. 16). 



CsESAREA PHILIPPL 



C7ESAREA PHILIPPI. 

Half an hour across the plain, through pleasant forest glades, 
bordered with myrtle, acacia, and oleander, and another half 
hour up a rugged mountain side, beneath the shade of Bashan's 
stately oaks, brought me to the site of the old Greek city of 
Panium, which Herod the Great rebuilt, and re-named Caesarea- 
Philippi. This is one of the very few really beautiful spots in 
Palestine. Behind rises Hermon, steep, rugged, and grand, one 
of its lower peaks crowned by the frowning battlements of a 
Phoenician castle. In front stretches out the broad plain of 
Merom, like a vast meadow, and away beyond it is the mountain 
range of Lebanon. The city stood upon a natural terrace, 
which is interspersed with groves of oaks and olives and shrub- 
beries of hawthorn, myrtle, and acacia, and is all alive with 
streams of water and miniature cascades, fretting here and there 
against prostrate column and ruined wall. It is, in fact, as Dean 
Stanley has happily named it, a Syrian Tivoli. 

Behind the ruins rises a cliff of ruddy limestone. At its 
base is a dark cave, now nearly filled with the ruins of a temple. 
From the cave, from the ruins, from every chink and cranny 
in the soil and rocks around, waters gush forth, which soon 
collect into a torrent, dash in sheets of foam down a rocky 
bed, and at length plunge over a precipice into a deep dark 
ravine. This is the other great fountain of the Jordan. 

It is " holy ground," for Jesus was here. Beside the fountain 
he uttered those memorable words, " Thou art Peter, and upon 
this rock I will build my church" (Matt. xvi. 13-20; xvii. 1-13). 
May not the sight of the great cliff overhead have suggested 
the peculiar form of the expression] And we read that six days 
afterwards Christ took three of his disciples, and led them " up 
into an high mountain, and was transfigured before them." 
Standing there amid the ruins of Caesarea, one does not need to 
ask where the Mount of Transfiguration is. Hermon, the 



104 THE JORDAN AND THE DEAD SEA. 

grandest and the most beautiful of all the mountains of 
Palestine, has established its claim to the title of " holy mount." 

THE WATERS OF MEROM. 

The streams from Dan and Cassarea unite with several others 
and flow into a little lake, which is called in Scripture the 
" waters of Merom." On the north and east it is shut in by 
impenetrable marshes, but on the south-west is a considerable 
expanse of higher plain and rolling downs, above which, on 
the mountain side, are the ruins of the great city of Hazor. 
Here Jabin, the head of the northern Canaanitish tribes, 
assembled all his forces and numerous allies, and drew up his 
war chariots and cavalry, for a final attempt to drive back the 
Israelites. But God fought for Israel. The attack was sudden, 
and the rout complete. When I stood on the mountain-brow, 
near the ruins of that royal city, and looked down on the battle- 
field hemmed in by the river, the lake, the marshes, and the 
mountains, I saw how the panic-stricken Canaanites, with their 
horses and chariots, would be hurled together in confused and 
helpless masses on the marshy plain and in the narrow ravines, 
and" would become an easy prey to the victorious Israelites, 
who " smote them until they left them none remaining, ... 
and houghed their horses, and burned their chariots with fires" 
(Josh, xi.) This victory virtually completed the conquest of 
Palestine. 

A few miles below the lake the Jordan is spanned by the 
u Bridge of Jacob's Daughters," — a name for which it is not 
easy to account. So far the Jordan glides lazily along through 
a grassy vale, between reedy banks, on which the buffalo and 
the wild swine find a fitting home ; but at the bridge the vale 
becomes a wild ravine, and the sluggish stream a foaming 
torrent. Along its banks I rode, guided by an Arab chief, now 
following the windings of the channel, now crossing a high pro- 
jecting bluff. The mad river never rests until, breaking from 



SEA OF GALILEE, 



its rocky barriers, it enters the rich plain of Bethsaida, — that 
Bethsaida near which Jesus fed the five thousand with five 
loaves (Luke ix. 10). After a passing visit to the desolate 
site, I continued my journey, and found my tent pitched at the 
mouth of the Jordan. 

THE SEA OF GALILEE. 

It was a lovely spot. I sat there in my tent-door, and 
looked long and eagerly over one of the most interesting 
panoramas in the world. There was nothing to disturb me, — 
no din of human life, no jarring sound of human toil or struggle. 
The silence was profound. Even nature seemed to have fallen 
asleep. The river glided noiselessly past, and the sea was 
spread out before me like a polished mirror, reflecting from its 
glassy bosom the gorgeous tints of the evening sky; and both 
sea and river were fringed with a bright border of oleander 
flowers. East of the lake, the side of Bashan's lofty plateau 
rose as a mountain chain; and at its northern end my eye 
rested on the very scene of that miracle of mercy, where thou* 
sands were fed ; and at its southern end, on that of the miracle 
of judgment, where " the whole herd of swine ran violently 
down a steep place, and perished in the waters." Away on the 
west the shattered ramparts of Tiberias seemed to rise out of 
the bosom of the lake, and behind them a dark mountain, in 
whose caverned cliffs repose the ashes of many a learned 
rabbin, while over all appeared the graceful rounded top of 
Tabor. Farther to the right, on the white strand, I saw the 
huts of Magdala, with the coast of Gennesaret extending from 
it northward to Capernaum, — Christ's own city. Far on into 
the night I sat by the silent shore of Galilee, gazing, now on 
the dark outlines of hill and mountain, now on the crescent 
moon, as she rose in her splendour, and now on the bright 
stars, as they hung trembling in the deep dark vault of 
heaven. 



106 THE JORDAN AND THE DEAD SEA. 

" All things were calm, and fair, and passive. Earth 
Looked as if lulled upon an angel's lap 
Into a breathless dewy sleep ; so still, 
That I could only say of things, they be ! 
The lakelet now, no longer vexed with gusts, 
Replaced upon her breast the pictured moon, 
Pearled round with stars." 

CHORAZIN, BETHSAIDA, AND CAPERNAUM. 

Before the morning sun o'ertopped the hills of Bashan I 
was in the saddle. A ride of three miles westward along 
the shore brought me to the ruins of a large town. It was 
encompassed by such a dense jungle of thorns, thistles, and 
rank weeds, that I had to employ some shepherds to open 
a passage for me. Clambering to the top of a shattered 
wall I was able to overlook the whole site. What a scene 
of desolation was that ! Not a house, not a wall, not a 
solitary pillar remains standing. Broken columns, hewn stones, 
sculptured slabs of marble, and great shapeless heaps of rubbish, 
half concealed by thorns and briars, alone serve to mark the 
site of a great and rich city. The Arabian does not pitch his 
tent there, the shepherd does not feed his flock there, — not a 
sound fell upon my ear as I stood amid those ruins save the 
gentle murmur of each wave as it broke upon the pebbly beach, 
and the mournful sighing of the summer breeze through sun- 
scorched branches; yet that is the place where Chorazin once 
stood! Chorazin heard but rejected the words of mercy from 
the lips of its Lord, and he pronounced its doom, — " Woe 
unto thee, Chorazin V (Matt. xi. 21.) 

After riding some three miles farther along the lake I reached 
a little retired bay, with a pebbly strand, — just such a place as 
fishermen would delight to draw up their boats and spread out 
their nets upon. Here were numerous fountains, several old 
tanks and aqueducts, great heaps of rubbish, and fields of 
ruin. Two Arab tents were pitched a little way up on the hill 
side, but I saw no other trace there of human habitation or 



CAPERNA UM. 



107 



human life; and yet that is the site of Bethsaida, — the city of 
Andrew and Peter, James and John (John i. 44 ; Matt. iv. 8 ; 
Luke v. 10). Upon this strand Jesus called his first disciples. 
Like Chorazin, this city heard and rejected his words, and like 
Chorazin, it has been left desolate. "Woe unto thee, Beth- 
saida!" 

A few minutes more and I reached the brow of a bluff pro- 
montory, which dips into the bosom of the lake. Before me 
now opened up the fertile plain of Gennesaret. At my feet, 
beneath the western brow of the cliff, a little fountain burst 
from a rocky basin. A fig-tree spreads its branches over it, 
and gives it a name, — Ain-et-Tin, " the fountain of the fig." 
Beside it are some massive foundations, scarcely distinguishable 
amid the rank weeds, and away beyond it, almost covered with 
thickets of thorns, briars, and gigantic thistles, I saw large heaps 
of ruins and rubbish. These are all that now mark the site of 
Capernaum. Christ's words are fulfilled to the letter, — " And 
thou, Caperna?im, which art exalted unto heaven, shall be brought 
down to heir (Matt. xi. 23). 

On that day I climbed a peak which commands the lake, and 
the Jordan valley up to the waters of Merom. The principal 
scene of Christ's public labours lay around me — a region some 
thirty miles long by ten wide. When He had His home at 
Capernaum, the whole country was teeming with life, and 
bustle, and industry. No less than ten large cities, with 
numerous villages, studded the shores of the lake, and the 
plains and the hill-sides around. The water was all speckled with 
the dark boats and white sails of Galilee's fishermen. Eager 
multitudes followed the footsteps of Jesus, through the city 
streets, over the flower-strewn fields, along the pebbly beach. 
What a woeful change has passed over the land since that 
time ! The Angel of destruction has been there. From that 
commanding height, through the clear Syrian atmosphere, I 
was able to distinguish, by the aid of my glass, every spot in 



Io8 THE JORDAN AND THE DEAD SEA. 

that wide region, celebrated in sacred history, or hallowed by 
sacred association. My eye swept the lake, from north to south, 
from east to west; not a single sail, not a solitary boat was 
there. My eye swept the great Jordan valley, the little plains, 
the glens, the mountain sides from base to summit — not a 
city, not a village, not a house, not a sign of settled habita- 
tion was there, except the few huts of Magdala, and the shattered 
houses of Tiberias. A mournful and solitary silence reigned 
triumphant. Desolation keeps unbroken Sabbath in Galilee 
now. Nature has lavished on the country some of her choicest 
gifts; — a rich soil, a genial climate; but the curse of heaven has 
come upon it because of the sin of man. I saw how wondrously 
time has changed a prophetic sentence into a graphic reality. 
" / will make your cities waste, saith the Lord ; I will bring 
the land into desolation. I will scatter you among the heathen. 
Upon the land shall co?ne up thorns and briars ; yea, upon all 
the houses of joy in the joyous city. So that the generation to 
come of your children that shall rise up after you, and the 
stranger that shall come from a far land, shall say, when they 
see the plagues of that land, Wherefore hath the Lord do?ie thus 
unto this land ? What meaneth the heat of this great anger V 
(Lev. xxvi ; Deut. xxix. ; Isa. xxxii.) 

THE LOWER JORDAN. 

Between the Lake of Galilee and the Dead Sea lies a long 
deep valley, varying from five to ten miles in breadth, and shut 
in by the parallel mountain ranges of Samaria and Gilead. 
Down the centre of this valley, in the bed of a deep ravine, 
winds the river Jordan. It has two distinct lines of banks. 
The first, or lower banks confine the stream, are comparatively 
low, generally alluvial, and thickly fringed with foliage. The 
second, or upper banks are at some distance from the chan- 
nel — occasionally nearly half a mile apart, and in places they 
rise to a height of one hundred and fifty feet. The appearance 



SCENE OF CHRIST S BAPTISM. 109 

of the river itself is exceedingly varied. Now it sweeps grace- 
fully round a green meadow, softly kissing with its rippling 
waves the blushing flowers of the oleander as they bend over 
it ; — now it clasps a wooded islet in its shining arms ; — now 
fretted by projecting cliffs, and opposed by rocky ledges, it 
dashes madly forward in sheets of foam. 

One bridge alone spans the river, on the road which joins the 
ancient cities of Bethshean and Gadara. But the ruins of many 
others are visible, and the fords are numerous. Of the latter, 
one of the most remarkable is Succoth, where Jacob crossed 
with his flocks and herds (Gen. xxxiii. 17), and where the flee- 
ing hosts of Zebah and Zalmunna suffered so terribly from the 
Israelites (Judges vii. 24, sq. ; viii. 4-10). The plain around 
Succoth is abundantly watered by fountains and streamlets 
from the mountains. The soil is exceedingly rich. Dr. Robin 
son says of it, " The grass intermingled with tall daisies and 
wild oats, reached to our horses' backs, while the thistles some- 
times overtopped the riders' heads." Jacob showed his usual 
worldly wisdom, when he encamped at this favoured spot, and 
" made booths {Succoth) for his cattle." 

But the most interesting spot on the Jordan is unquestion- 
ably that now called the " pilgrims' bathing-place," opposite 
Jericho. Here the channel is deep, the current rapid, and yet, 
on three different occasions, the river was stayed by a miracle, 
and the channel left dry, to let God's people pass over. And 
an interest still higher and holier clings to it. It is the scene 
of Christ's baptism. Sitting here one day on the river's bank, 
beneath the shade of a great willow tree, I read in succession 
the Bible narratives of the passage of the Israelites under 
Joshua, of the translation of Elijah, and of the baptism of Jesus; 
and then looking up on those grey bluffs that bound the narrow 
ravine, I involuntarily exclaimed, " Oh, that my eyes had seen 
those glorious events of which you were the witnesses ! Oh, that 
the eye of sense had witnessed what the eye of faith now con- 

do; g 



no THE JORDAN AND THE DEAD SEA. 

templates! — The marshalled hosts of Israel; the ark on which 
rested the Shekinah glory ; then the fiery Chariot bearing God's 
prophet to heaven ; and last of all, " the Dove," the Heavenly 
Dove, coming down and abiding upon the Saviour.'' 

It was in the month of April I visited this " holy place" on 
the Jordan. It was already the time of harvest, for the people 
of Jericho were reaping their little fields up on the plain. And 
we are told that " Jordan overfloweth all his banks all the time 
of harvest" (Joshua iii. 15; 1 Chrom xii. 15). The fact is still 
true, though Palestine is changed. The heavy rains of early 
spring falling on the northern mountains, and the winter snow 
melting on the sides of Hermon, send a thousand tributaries to 
the sacred river. It rises to the top of the lower banks, and 
when I was there, the ruddy, swollen waters had flowed over 
and covered portions of the verdant meadows on each side. 

Mounting my horse, I followed the tortuous river to its 
mouth, and saw it empty its waters into that sea of death. One 
would almost think they flow in reluctantly, for the current be- 
comes slower and slower, and the channel wider and wider, till 
at length water touches water, and th^ Tordan is lost. Such is 
this sacred river, without a parallel, historical or physical, in 
the whole world. A complete river beneath the level of the 
ocean, disappearing in a lake which has no outlet, and which 
could have none. In whatever way we regard it, the Jordan 
stands alone. 

THE DEAD SEA. 

The Dead Sea fills up the southern end of the Jordan valley. 
It is about fifty miles in length from north to south, by ten in 
breadth. The mountain chains which shut in the valley become 
here steeper, wilder, and bleaker. In some places they rise in 
lofty precipices of naked rock from the bosom of the waters; 
in others they retire, forming wild nooks and yawning ravines, 
fitting homes for the wild goats which still inhabit them. The 
scenery of the lake is bare and desolate, but grand. The water 



SCENER Y OF THE DEAD SEA. 



I r l 



is clear and sparkling, deep and beautiful azure when the sky is 
cloudless, but reflecting vividly every changing hue of the fir- 
mament. In summer, when the heat is intense, a thin, whitish 
quivering vapour hangs over the surface of the water, and gives 
a strange dreamy indistinctness to the mountains. At the 
northern and southern ends, the flat plains are parched, and 
barren, in part covered with fine sand, and in part with a white 
nitrous coating like hoar frost. Brackish and sulphur springs 
occur at intervals around the whole borders of the lake. Some 
of them are warm, and send up clouds of steam. At one or 
two places along the western shore, and also at the southern 
end of the lake are slimy pools and marshes, whose exhalations 
of sulphuretted-hydrogen taint the atmosphere for miles. Strewn 
along the northern shore, especially near the mouth of the Jor- 
dan, lie large quantities of drift wood, brought down by the 
swollen river, and it is everywhere encrusted with salt crystals. 
The great depression, the fierce rays of an unclouded sun, the 
white mountain chains on -each side, and the white soil below 
reflecting the sun's rays, give the whole basin of the Dead Sea 
a temperature like that ^ a furnace. Never did I suffer so 
much from intense suffocating heat as during the days I spent 
on the shores of the lake. 

Yet still it cannot be called a " sea of death," in that sense 
in which travellers in former ages were wont to represent it. It 
has been stated that no vegetation could exist along its shores, 
and that no bird could fly over it; that, in fact, its poisonous 
exhalations are fatal alike to animal and vegetable life. 
This is altogether untrue. At every little fountain along the 
shores, the vegetation has a tropical luxuriance. I have seen 
the oleander dipping its gorgeous flowers into the lake; and I 
have seen the willow and the tamarisk, and numerous other 
shrubs flourishing where their stems were at certain seasons 
immersed in the waters. The cane-brakes on the shore abound 
with wild fowl ; and occasionally flocks of ducks may be seen 



1 1 2 THE JORDAN AND THE DEAD SEA. 

swimming far out on the sea. The water, however, is intoler- 
ably salt and bitter, and no fish could live in it. Yet it is not 
altogether destitute of living creatures, a few inferior organiza- 
tions having been found in it by recent naturalists. Its specific 
gravity is so great that the human body will not sink in it. I 
have tried it myself, and can, therefore, testify to the truth of 
the fact. This is easily accounted for. The weight of water 
increases in proportion to the quantity of salt it contains in 
solution. Ordinary sea water has about four per cent, of salt, 
whilst that of the Dead Sea contains more than twenty-six per 
cent. 

The Dead Sea is thus a physical wonder, and, strange to say, 
it is also a historical wonder. It would appear that in an- 
cient times, it was much smaller than it is at present, leaving 
room for a large and fertile plain on which the cities of 
Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, and Zeboim once stood (compare 
Gen. xiii. 10-12). These cities were burned by fire from 
heaven, and the whole plain, or, as it was called, " the vale of 
Siddim" (xiv. 8), was covered with water (xiv. 3). Recent ex- 
plorations of the sea and of the surrounding region tend, I be- 
lieve, to throw some light on one of the most remarkable events 
of physical geography and of Biblical history. The northern 
section of the lake, from the mouth of the Jordan to the pro- 
montory of Lisan, is immensely deep, varying from forty to two 
hundred and eighteen fathoms. But the whole southern sec- 
tion is shallow, — only a few feet of water covering an extensive 
flat, in which bitumen pits, and bituminous limestone abound. 
The latter appears to have been the plain of Sodom, for we 
learn from Gen. xix. 27, 28, that the plain was visible from a 
hill-top near Hebron, which would not be true of any part of 
the Jordan valley north of En-gedi. The Bible further informs 
us that " the vale of Siddim was full of slime pits," that is, pits 
or wells of bitumen (xiv. 10). Now we know that bitumen 
burns like oil, and bituminous limestone is also inflammable. 



DESTRUCTION OF SODOM. 



"3 



May not the houses of Sodom and the other cities have been 
built of the latter, and, like the tower of Babel, cemented with 
the former 1 ? And if so, when once ignited by fire from heaven, 
they would burn rapidly and fiercely, — nay, the whole plain 
filled with its bitumen pits, and strewn with inflammable stones, 
would burn like a coal-field. How strikingly does this seem to 
illustrate the words of Scripture, — " And Abraham gat up early 
in the morning (from his tent at Mamre) to the place where he 
stood before the Lord (compare xviii. 16, 22), And he looked 
toward Sodom and Gomorrah and toward all the land of the 
plain, and behold, and lo, the smoke of the country went up as the. 
smoke of a furnace" (Gen. xix. 27, 28). 



1 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



I. 



jfyixn % abut, 

" Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is Mount Zion, on the sides of the 
north, the city of the great King." — Ps. xlviii. 2. 

T is not strange that my first night on the Mount of 
Olives was sleepless. Though the preceding night 
had been spent in the saddle, and the preceding day 
in .fatiguing travel, yet the vision of Jerusalem, which I had 
that day seen for the first time, remained so vivid before my 
mind's eye, that it banished all thought of sleep and all sense 
of fatigue. For hours I lay absorbed in the stirring memories 
of the distant past, which holy scenes had called up and 
invested with the charm of reality. Mount Zion, — Moriah, 
crowned of yore with the halo of the Shekinah glory, — 
Gethsemane, bedewed with the tears, and stained by the 
bloody-sweat of the Son of man, — Olivet, where Jesus so often 
taught and prayed, — they were all there, each with its 
wondrous story written as if in letters of light. Longing for 
the morning, I once and again rose from my bed and threw 
open the lattice. The stars hung out like diamond lamps from 
the black vault of heaven, shining with a sparkling lustre 
unknown in our hazy west, and revealing in dim outline the 
walls and towers of the Holy City sleeping peacefully away 
below. 

I was specially favoured during my first visit to Jerusalem. 
An old friend had rented a little tower high up on the western 




1 1 8 JER USALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 

side of Olivet, commanding a noble view of the Holy City and 
the surrounding country from Bethlehem to Mizpeh. It was 
one of those square turrets which in recent, as in ancient times, 
proprietors sometimes built in their vineyards as residences for 
keepers and temporary store-houses for fruit (Isa. v. 2 j 
Matt. xxi. 33). Here I took up my quarters, and from the 
open window or the terraced roof, at all hours, day and night, 
I gazed on that wondrous landscape. During the soft, ruddy 
morning twilight, — at the full blaze of noon-day, — in the dead 
stillness of night, when the moon shed her silver rays on the 
white walls and roofs of the city, my eyes were upon it, — never 
wearying, never satisfied, but ever detecting some new beauty 
in tint or form, some fresh spot of sacred interest or historic 
renown. While I live I can never forget that view of 

JERUSALEM FROM THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 

Morning dawned; and with my kind host, to whom every 
spot in and around Jerusalem was familiar, I ascended to the 
terraced roof. Behind Olivet, on the east, the sky was all 
aglow with red light, which shot slanting across the hill-tops 
and projecting cliffs, and upon the walls and prominent 
buildings of the city, throwing them up in bold relief from the 
deeply shaded glens. No time could have been more 
opportune, no spot better fitted for seeing and studying the 
general topography of the Holy City. The whole site was 
before us, distinct and full, like a vast and beautiful embossed 
picture. At our feet, along the base of Olivet, was the Kidron, 
a deep and narrow glen, coming down from an undulating 
plateau on the right, and disappearing round the shoulder of 
the hill on the left; its banks terraced, and dotted here and 
there with little groves and single olive trees. Directly opposite 
us was Mount Moriah, its bare sides rising precipitously from 
the bottom of the Kidron to a height of some two hundred 
feet. On its summit is a rectangular platform, about thirty 



THE SITE OF THE TEMPLE. 



tt 9 



acres in extent, and taking up fully one-half of the eastern side 
of the city. It is encompassed and supported by a massive 
wall, in some places nearly eighty feet high, and looking even 
higher where it impends over the ravine. This platform 
constitutes by far the most striking feature of the city. It is 
unique. There is nothing like it in the world. Its history, 
too, is wonderful. ' It has been " a holy place " for more than 
thirty centuries. Its Cyclopean walls were founded by Solomon. 
Upon it stood the Temple, in whose shrine the Glory of the 
Lord so often appeared, and in whose courts the Son of God 
so often taught. It is still to the Muslem el-Haram esh-Sherif, 
" the noble sanctuary," and, next to Mecca, the most venerated 
sanctuary in the world. The platform itself — simple, massive, 
and grand — is a striking object; but the buildings it contains 
greatly contribute to its beauty. In its centre, on a raised area 
of white marble, stands one of the most splendid mosques in 
the world, octagonal in form, encrusted with encaustic tiles of 
gorgeous colours, and surmounted by a graceful dome. From 
its area the ground slopes away to the encircling ramparts in 
gentle undulations of green turf, diversified with marble arcades, 
gilded cupolas, fountains and prayer-niches; and interspersed with 
venerable C)*presses, olives, and palms. At the southern end is 
a large group of stately buildings, including the Mosque el-Aksa, 
once the Church of the Virgin; and round the sides of the 
platform are cloisters, here and there covered with domes, and 
surmounted by tall minarets. The quiet seclusion of this 
sanctuary, the rich green of its grass and foliage, the dazzling 
whiteness of its pavements and fountains, the brilliant tints of 
the central mosque, and, above all, its sacred associations, 
make it one of the most charming and interesting spots on 
earth. 

Just behind Moriah the Tyropean Valley was distinctly 
marked by a deeply-shaded belt, running from north to south 
through the city. Beyond it .rose Zion, higher and longer than 



120 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



Moriah ; in front, a confused mass of terraced roofs, tier above 
tier; farther back are seen the white buildings of the Armenian 
Convent, like an immense factory; more to the right the new 
English church; and in the background, crowning the hill, the 
massive square keep of the Castle of David. The southern 
section of Zion is now outside the city wall ; and there a high 
minaret and cupola mark the tomb of David. From it the hill 
sinks into the Valley of Hinnom in steep terraced slopes, 
covered with vineyards, olives, and corn-fields. As I looked, 
a moving object in one of the fields rivetted my attention. 
" Haste, give me the glass," I said. I turned it upon the spot. 
Yes, I was right; a plough and yoke of oxen were there at 
work. Jeremiah's prophecy was fulfilled before my eyes: "Zion 
shall be ploughed like a field" (xxvi. 18). 

Along the further side of Zion runs the deep glen of Hinnom, 
which, turning eastward, sweeps round the southern end of the 
hill and joins the Kidron at En-Rogel. These two ravines 
form the great physical boundaries and barriers of Jerusalem; 
they completely cut it off from the surrounding table-land ; and 
they isolate the hills on which it stands, and those other hills, 
too, or hill-tops, which as the Psalmist tells us, "are round 
about Jerusalem " (cxxv. 2). These natural barriers also served 
to confine the city within regular and definite limits — to prevent 
it from sending forth straggling suburbs and offshoots as most 
other cities do; hence it was said, "Jerusalem is builded as a 
city that is compact together" (Ps. cxxii. 3). 

A high battlemented wall encompasses the modern city. It 
runs for half a mile along the brow of the Kidron valley, facing 
Olivet, then turns at right angles and zizags across Moriah, the 
Tyropean, and Zion to the brow of Hinnom. The whole 
circuit is two miles and a half. The city was always fortified, 
and the walls and towers formed its most prominent features. 
Hence the language of the exulting Psalmist, "Walk about 
Zion, and go round about her: tell the towers thereof, mark ye 



SCENERY OF THE ENVIRONS. 



121 



well her bulwarks." Jerusalem has no suburbs. There is no 
shading off of the city into the country — long streets radiating 
from a centre, then straggling houses, and villas, and gardens, 
such as we are accustomed to see in English towns. The 
moment you pass the gates of Jerusalem you are in the country, 
— a country open, bare, without a single house, and almost 
desolate. Not a green spot is visible, and not a tree, save here 
and there a little clump of gnarled, dusky olives. Rounded 
hill-tops, and long reaches of plain, strewn with heaps of grey 
limestone, extend from the walls far away to the north and 
south. There is no grandeur, beauty, or richness in the scenery. 
It is bleak and featureless. Hence the sad disappointment felt 
by most travellers on approaching Jerusalem from the west and 
north. They can only see the serried line of grey Saracenic 
walls extending across a section of a bleak, rocky plateau. But 
when I stood that morning on the brow of Olivet, and looked 
down on the city, crowning those battlemented heights, 
encircled by those deep and dark ravines, I involuntarily 
exclaimed, — " Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, 
is Mount Zion> the city of the great King" (Ps. xlviii. 2). And 
as I gazed, the red rays of the rising sun shed a halo^round the CO 
top of the Castle of David; then they tipped with gold each 
tapering minaret, and gilt each dome of mosque and church; 
and at length bathed in one flood of ruddy light the terraced 
roofs of the city, and the grass and foliage, the cupolas, 
pavements, and colossal walls of the Haram. — No human 
being could be disappointed who first saw Jerusalem from 
Olivet. 

WALKS THROUGH THE CITY. 

In the eastern wall there is but one gate, and all the paths 
from Olivet and Bethany meet there. Instead of entering, 
however, we turn to the left, and soon reach the square tower 
on the north-east angle of the Haram. The enormous size of 
the stones in the lower courses of the masonry — some of them 



122 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



being more than twenty feet long — and the moulding of their 
edges, prove that the building was founded not later than the 
time of Herod, and probably much earlier. It was one of the 
external defences of the fortress of Antonia, where the Roman 
garrison was quartered, and in which was Pilate's " Judgment 
Hall" where our Lord was condemned (Matt, xxvii. 19). 

Proceeding southwards, we reach an ancient gate, which, 
though now walled up, is the most striking object on this side 
of the city. Travellers usually call it "The Golden Gate;" but 
its florid capitals and entablatures, and its debased Corinthian 
columns and pilasters are not older than the fourth century ; 
and, consequently, it cannot be reckoned one of the gates of 
the temple. 

The Valley of Judgment — Muslem tradition. — After passing the 
gate, my companion directed my attention to the end of a 
granite column projecting from the wall far overhead, to which 
the Mohammedans have attached a curious tradition. On it, 
they say, their Prophet will sit on the last day to direct the 
work of the final judgment in the valley beneath. That part of 
the tradition which locates the judgment in the Kidron, or 
' Valley of Jehoshaphat," they have borrowed from the Jews, 
and it has its origin in a misinterpretation of Joel iii. 12. But 
be this as it may, the belief exercises a powerful influence alike 
on Jews and Mohammedans. The favourite burying-place of 
the latter is the narrow ledge outside the Haram wall, on the 
brow of the Kidron \ and the Jews often travel from the ends 
of the earth that they may lay their bones in the vast cemetery 
which covers the opposite bank of the ravine. 

The Pinnacle of the Temple. — The south-eastern angle of the 
Haram is a most interesting relic of ancient Jerusalem. It is 
nearly eighty feet high. In its lower part are sixteen courses 
of bevelled stones, forming one of the finest specimens of 
masonry in the world. The joints are so close, and the finish 
of the moulding so perfect, that when new it must have pro- 



PINNACLE OF THE TEMPLE. 



123 



duced the effect of relievo panelling. On looking at this 
noble work, the narrative in Mark xiii. assumed a fresh interest 
for me : — " And as He went out of the temple, one of His 
disciples saith unto Him, Master, See what manner of stones and 
what buildings are here." The "chief corner-stones" surpass 
all the others in size and finish. They measure twenty feet by 
six, and are designed alike for strength and beauty! How 
graphic must the words of Isaiah have been to the old Jews 
who frequented the temple courts, and were familiar with these 
colossal stones ! " Behold I lay in Zion for a foundation, a 
stone, a tried stone, a precious corner-stone, a sure foundation" 
(xxviii. 16); and how beautifully expressive is the language of the 
Psalmist ! — " Our daughters as corner-stones, polished after the 
similitude of a palace" (cxliv. 1 2). 

The angle springs from the very brow of the valley; and 
upon its summit stood, in Herod's time, a splendid tower, 
uniting the royal cloisters which ran along the southern side of 
the temple court, to the cloisters or "porch" of Solomon 
(John x. 23), which occupied the eastern side. Josephus thus 
describes the stupendous height of this tower : — " If any one 
looked down from the top of the battlements, or down both 
those altitudes, he would be giddy, while his sight could not 
reach to such an immense depth." There can be little doubt 
that this was "the pinnacle of the temple" on which Satan 
placed our Lord in the temptation (Matt, iv.) 

Turning the corner, we walked on to the place where the 
modern city wall meets the ancient Haram wall at right angles; 
and just at the point of junction we observed part of an old 
gateway. We examined it in passing; but at a subsequent 
period I was enabled to explore it thoroughly inside and out. 
The gate is double, and formerly opened into a long tunnelled 
passage, leading up by an inclined plane and steps to the centre 
of the Haram. It was evidently intended for the accommodation 
of the inhabitants of the lower part of the city ; probably for 



124 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



the Nethinims and others who lived down in Ophel, to give 
them easy access to the temple (Neh. iii. 26 ; xi. 21). 

Solomon's "Ascent" to the Temple. — There is no gate in the 
city wall near the Haram, and we must, consequently, pass 
round towards Zion to a little postern which is usually open 
upon Fridays. Entering by it, we suddenly find ourselves in a 
wilderness of ruins and rubbish heaps, overgrown with rank 
weeds and straggling jungles of the giant cactus. The shattered 
and half-ruinous houses of the Jewish quarter are away up on 
the left, clinging to the precipitous side of Zion. A tortuous 
path, encumbered with filth, and noisome with the putrid 
remains of cats, dogs, camels, and other animals, winds through 
this scene of desolation. As we pass along, we cannot but 
recall the words of Micah, for his prediction is fulfilled before 
our eyes : — " Therefore shall Zion for your sake be plowed as a 
field, and Jemsale?n shall become heaps, and the mountain oj tht 
house as the high places of the forest" (iii. 1 2). At length we 
reach the south-west angle of the Haram, and feel amply repaid 
for a toilsome and unpleasant walk. The masonry here is even 
grander than that of the other angle, and the "corner-stones" 
are still more colossal ; one measures thirty feet by six and a 
half ! This angle stands on the brow of the Tyropean valley, 
which separated Moriah from Zion, but which is now in a great 
measure filled up with rubbish. 

Some forty feet from the angle, on the western side, are three 
courses of colossal masonry projecting from the wall, and 
forming the springing stones of a large arch. These stones 
have within the last few years attracted no little attention, and 
given rise to no small amount of controversy. And this is not 
strange, for they are unquestionably a remnant of the bridge 
that once connected Moriah and Zion. Calculating by the 
curve of the part which remains, we find that the span of the 
arch must have been about forty feet, and five such arches 
would be required to cross the Tyropean. That the bridge 



SOLOMON'S BRIDGE. 



existed in our Lord's time we learn from Josephus. It is also . 
mentioned during the siege by Pompey twenty years before 
Herod was made king. The exact date of the fragment still 
remaining, cannot, of course, be precisely fixed. One thing, 
however, is certain, that it is coeval with the massive foundations 
of the southern angles of the Haram. One of the three courses 
is five feet four inches high, the others are a little less. One of 
the stones is twenty-four feet long, another twenty, and the rest 
in proportion. The Cyclopean dimensions, and peculiar 
character of the masonry, indicate a far higher antiquity than. 
Herod the Great, and would seem to point back to the earliest 
age of the Jewish monarchy. We read in i Kings vii. 10, that 
the foundations of Solomon's temple were formed of" costly stones, 
even great stones; stones of ten cubits, and stones of eight cubits. . . . 
And the great court round about was with three rows of hewed 
stones." In three passages of Scripture a remarkable " ascent," 
or "causeway" is mentioned, leading from the palace to the 
temple, and specially intended for the use of the king (i Kings 
x. 5; i Chron. xxvi. 16; 2 Chron. ix. 4). May we not identify 
this "ascent" with the "viaduct" which, according to Josephus, 
connected the royal palace on Zion with the temple court] 
Such a monument of genius and power might well make a deep 
impression on the mind of the Queen of Sheba in that remote 
age ; and thus a new interest is attached to the story : — " And 
when the Queen of Sheba had seen the wisdom of Solomon, 
and the house he had built, . . . and his ascent by which he went 
up into the house of the Lord, there was no more spirit in her." 

What a train of associations, holy and historic, and what a 
crowd of feelings, joyous and sorrowful, do these few stones 
awaken ! Over the noble bridge which they supported, marched 
in solemn splendour the kings and princes of Israel, to worship 
God in His temple. Over it, too, humble and despised, often 
passed the Son of God himself, to carry a message of heavenly 
peace to a rebel world. Upon its shattered arch the victorious 

ao) . Q 



126 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



Titus once stood, and pointing to the burning temple behind 
him, made a final appeal to the remnant of the Jews on Zion 
to lay down their arms and save themselves from slaughter by 
submission to Rome. Now, temple, bridge, and palace are all 
gone. Within the precincts of the temple-court no Jew dare 
set his foot; and on the site of the royal palace the wretched 
dwellings of that poor despised race are huddled together in 
misery and in squalor. 

The Place of Wailing. — Entering the inhabited part of the 
old city, and winding through some crooked filthy lanes, I sud- 
denly found myself, on turning a sharp corner, in a spot of 
singular interest ; — the " Jew's place of wailing." It is a small 
paved quadrangle; on one side are the backs of low modern 
houses, without door or window ; on the other is the lofty wall 
of the Haram, of recent date above, but having below five 
courses of bevelled stones in a perfect state of preservation. 
Here the Jews are permitted to approach the sacred enclosure, 
and wail over the fallen temple, whose very dust is dear to 
them, and in whose stones they still take pleasure (Ps. cii. 14). 
It was Friday, and a crowd of miserable devotees had assembled 
— men and women of all ages and all nations, dressed in the 
quaint costumes of every country of Europe and Asia. Old 
men were there, — pale, haggard, careworn men, tottering on 
pilgrim staves; and little girls with white faces, and lustrous 
black eyes, gazing wistfully now at their parents, now at the 
old wall. Some were on their knees, chanting mournfully from 
a book of Hebrew prayers, swaying their bodies to and fro ; 
some were prostrate on the ground, pressing forehead and lips 
to the earth ; some were close to the wall, burying their faces 
in the rents and crannies of the old stones ; some were kissing 
them, some had their arms spread out as if they would clasp 
them to their bosoms, some were bathing them with tears, 
and all the while sobbing as if their hearts would burst. It was 
a sad and touching spectacle. Eighteen centuries of exile and 



JEW'S PLACE OE WAILING. 



127 



woe have not dulled their hearts' affections, or deadened their 
feelings of national devotion. Here we see them assembled 
from the ends of the earth, poor, despised, down-trodden out- 
casts, — amid the desolations of their fatherland, beside the dis- 
honoured ruins of their ancient sanctuary, — chanting, now in 
accents of deep pathos, and now of wild woe, the prophetic 
words of their own Psalmist, — " O God, the heathen are come 
into thine inhei'itance ; thy holy temple have they defiled. .... 
We are become a reproach to our neighbours, a scorn and deri- 
sion to them that are round about us. How long, Lord 1 Wilt 
thou be angry for ever?" (Ps. lxxix. 1, 4, 5).-r- 

" Oh, weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, 
Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream ; 
Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell ; 
Mourn — where their God hath dwelt, the godless dwell ! " 

TJie Temple and its Court. — After two or three attempts to 
get a peep at the sacred enclosure through the open gateways, 
where we met with a somewhat rude reception from the guardian 
dervishes, we passed on to the Serai, or Pasha's palace, at the 
north-west corner. My companion had the entre'e, and we 
were soon on the terraced roof which commands the whole 
Haram. From this point the various buildings are seen to 
great advantage. I was struck with the chasteness of design, 
and wonderful minuteness and delicacy of detail, in the Sara- 
cenic architecture. The central mosque is a perfect gem. The 
encaustic tiles which cover the whole exterior, reflect in gorgeous 
hues the bright sunlight. Over the windows and ground the 
cornice are borders of beautifully interlaced Arabic characters, 
so large that one can easily read them. The graceful dome 
and its golden crescent crown the whole. The position of the 
building on its marble platform, raised high above the surround- 
ing area, adds vastly to its appearance. It is octagonal in form, 
and about one hundred and sixty feet in diameter. The roof 
and dome are supported by three concentric circles of marble 



1 2 8 JER US ALE M AND ITS ENVIR ONS. 

columns of the Corinthian order. Beneath the dome is the 
remarkable rock, — the sanctum of the whole Haram, — which 
gives to the building its name, Kubbet es-Sukhrah, " The Dome 
of the Rock." It is the top of the hill, — the crown of Mount 
Moriah, rough and irregular in form, and rising five or six feet 
above the marble floor. Beneath it is a small excavated 
chamber, called the " Noble Cave." The Jews regard this rock 
as the holiest spot on earth. Here, they tell us, Abraham 
offered his sacrifice; here was the threshing-floor of Oman 
which David bought, and on which Solomon built the Temple 
(2 Sam. xxiv. ; 1 Chron. xxi. ; 1 Kings vi. ; 2 Chron. hi.) We 
learn from the Talmud that the great altar of burnt-offering was 
erected on it, and that the cave beneath was excavated as a 
cesspool to drain off the blood. Thus the exact site of Solo- 
mon's Temple is identified ; and thus, too, we see that the 
golden crescent — the symbol of the false prophet — is now raised 
on high, as if in scorn and derision, over the very spot where 
the Shekinah glory appeared of old. Ezekiel's prophecy is ful- 
filled, " / will bring the worst of the heathen, and they shall 

possess their houses And their holy places shall be defiled" Q 

(vii. 24). 

The poor Jew may now truly exclaim, as he looks down from 
his squalid dwelling on the brow of Zion : — 

" Our temple hath not left one stone, 
And mockery sits on Salem's throne." 

The whole Haram area is artificial. Part of it round the 
great mosque has been cut down, while the outer portions are 
raised, and the southern section is supported on massive piers 
and arches. The subterranean chambers thus formed are 
chiefly used as cisterns for storing water. In former times they 
were supplied by an aqueduct from Solomon's Pools. 

The other buildings in the Haram have comparatively little 
interest On the right, adjoining the city, are ranges of Dervish 



VIA DOIOROSA. 



129 



colleges, with cloisters opening on the grassy area. Away on 
the south-west is El-Aksa, with its pointed roof and Gothic 
facade. To the left of the great mosque, and only a few paces 
distant, is a beautiful little cupola, supported on slender marble 
columns ; it was built by the Calif Abd el-Melek, some say as a 
model for the Dome of the Rock. 

Via Dolorosa. — A narrow lane which runs in a zig-zag line 
from the door of the Serai to the Church of the Sepulchre has 
been dignified by the name Via Dolorosa, because along it, says 
tradition, our Lord passed from the Judgment Hall to Calvary. 
I shall neither insult the understandings of my readers, nor 
shock their feelings by any description of the Seven Stations, 
which monkish imposture has located here. We passed along 
the street, making various excursions to the right and left in 
order to get a fuller view of the city, and to visit objects of 
interest. We looked into the Pool of Bethesda, so called., — 
but which seems to be a portion of the great fosse which 
protected the fortress of Antonia on the north; and we visited 
the Church of St. Anne, not far distant, — a chaste building of 
the Crusading age, recently given by the Sultan to the French 
Emperor. " Most of the city is very solitary and silent; echo 
answers to your tread; frequent waste places, among which 
the wild dog prowls, convey an indescribable impression of 
desolation ; and it is not only these waste places that give 
such an air of loneliness to the city, but many of the streets 
themselves, dark, dull, and mournful-looking, seem as if the 
Templars' armed tread were the last to which they had re- 
sounded." Another thing strikes the thoughtful traveller, — 
the remains of the ancient city that meet the eye are singu- 
larly few; here and there, a column in the wall, or a marble 
slab on the footway, or a fragment of bevelled masonry, or a 
Gothic arch projecting from a rubbish heap, — these are all that 
whisper memories of the distant past. The Jerusalem of Solo- 
mon, and the Jerusalem of Herod, and even a great part of 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



the Jerusalem of the Crusades, lie deeply buried beneath the 
modern lanes and houses. 

THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE 

Has been for fifteen hundred years the chief point of attrac- 
tion to Christian pilgrims. Its history may be told in a sen- 
tence or two. Founded by the Emperor Constantine, it was 
dedicated in a.d. 335 — Eusebius, the father of ecclesiastical 
history, taking part in the consecration sendee. It was de- 
stroyed by the Persians in 614, and rebuilt sixteen years 
afterwards on a new plan. It was again destroyed by the 
mad Calif Hakim, the founder of the Druse sect, and rebuilt 
in 1048. During the Crusades many changes and additions 
were made. The Rotunda, the Greek Church on its eastern 
side, the western facade, including the present door and tower, 
and the chapel over Calvary, were then erected in whole or in 
part. The buildings remained as the Crusaders left them til] 
the year 1808, when they were partly destroyed by fire. They 
were restored, and the church, as it now stands, was consecrated 
in 1810. 

Turning from the Via Dolorosa into a narrow lane, we soon 
reach an open court, its pavement worn by the feet of innumer- 
able pilgrims, and usually littered with the wares of trinket 
merchants, dealers in beads, crosses, " holy " soap, and " bless- 
ed " candles, which are eagerly bought up by strangers. On 
the northern side of the court stands the church. Its southern 
facade, the only one now uncovered, is a pointed Romanesque 
composition, dark, heavy, and yet picturesque. It has a wide 
double door, with detached shafts supporting richly sculptured 
architraves, representing our Lord's triumphant entry into 
Jerusalem. Over the door are two corresponding windows, 
and on the left stands the remnant of the massive Campanile, 
once a noble tower of five stories, but now cut down to three. 

On entering, it was with shame and sorrow I observed a 



CHURCH OF THE SEPULCHRE. 



guard of soldiers — Mohammedan soldiers — stationed in the 
vestibule, to keep rival Christian sects from quarrelling over the 
tomb of their Saviour. The principal part of the building is the 
Rotunda, which has a dome open at the top, like the Pantheon. 
Beneath the dome stands the Holy Sepulchre, a little structure, 
like a church in miniature, encased in white stone profusely 
ornamented, and surmounted by a crown-shaped cupola. It 
contains two small chambers — the first called the " Chapel of 
the Angel," and said to be the place where the angel sat after 
he had rolled away the stone from the door of the sepulchre. 
The stone itself is there too ! Through this we pass, and enter 
the Sepulchre by a very low door. It is a vault, measuring six 
feet by seven. The tomb — a raised couch covered with a slab 
of white marble — occupies the whole of the right side. Over 
it hang forty lamps of gold and silver, kept constantly burning. 
I lingered long here — solemnized, almost awe-stricken — looking 
at pilgrim after pilgrim, in endless succession, crawling in on 
bended knees, putting lips and forehead and cheeks to the cold 
marble, bathing it with tears, then dragging himself away 
backwards, still in the attitude of devotion, until the threshold 
is again crossed. The vault is said to be hewn out of the rock, 
. but not a vestige of rock is now visible ; the floor, tomb, walls, 
are all marble. The rock may be there ; but if so, how one 
should wish 

" The lichen now were free to twine 
O'er the dark entrance of that rock-hewn cell. 
Say, should we miss the gold-encrusted shrine 
Or incense-fume's intoxicating spell ?" 

The Rotunda and Sepulchre are common property. All 
sects — Latin, Greek, Armenian, Coptic, Jacobite — have free 
access to them, but each has its own establishment elsewhere. 
Round the Holy Sepulchre are numerous other " holy places," 
no less than thirty-two being cluster6d under one roof ! Gol- 
gotha, the Stone of Unction, the Place of Apparition, the Chapel 



132 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



of Mocking, the Chapel of the Invention of the Cross But 

why go over such a catalogue % I would not willingly mingle 
one light feeling or one light expression with the solemn events 
of the Crucifixion. Yet it is difficult to speak of these " holy 
places " gravely. It is difficult to forget how seriously such 
superstitions and traditions hinder the success of missionary 
enterprise, and how often they make Christianity a mockery in 
the land which gave it birth. 

On another occasion, I was in the Church of the Sepulchre 
at Easter, when crowded with pilgrims from all lands, of all 
sects. It was a strange and impressive, but painful scene. In 
that vast crowd, with the exception of a few solitary cases, I 
saw nothing like devotion ; and in these few cases devotional 
feeling had manifestly degenerated into superstition. Place 
was the object of worship, and not God. The bitter animosities 
of rival sects came out on all sides, among the clergy as well 
as their flocks ; and it was only the presence of the Turkish 
guard that prevented open war. I was then glad to think that 
the real place of our Lord's Passion was not dishonoured. 
True, Christianity is a spiritual faith; it recognises no "holy 
places." Yet one's natural feelings revolt at the bare idea of 
Calvary becoming the scene and the cause of superstition and 
strife. 

t But some of my readers will doubtless ask, " Does not the 
Church of the Sepulchre cover the real tomb of our Lord?" 
The question involves a long and tangled controversy, on which 
I care not to enter. I may, however, give my own first im- 
pressions on the subject — impressions which thought and study 
have since deepened into conviction. Before visiting Jerusa- 
lem, I knew from Scripture that Christ was crucified " without 
the gate" (Heb. xiii. 12), at a place called Golgotha (Matt, 
xxvii. 33), apparently beside a public road (v. 39). I also knew 
that the " sepulchre " was " hewn out of a rock " (Mark xv. 46),. 
in a garden near Golgotha (John xix. 41, 42). On visiting 



SITE OF CAT VARY UNKNOWN. 



T 33 



Jerusalem, I was not a little surprised to observe the dome of 
the Church of the Sepulchre far within the walls — in fact, 
nearly in the centre of the city. Yet the city in our Lord's day 
must have been four or five times larger than it is now. It 
seemed to me that topography alone makes identity all but 
impossible. But whatever may be thought of traditional " holy 
places," Zion and Moriah, Hinnom, Olivet, and the Kidron are 
there. What though the royal palace has become " heaps," 
and the temple has " not one stone left upon another !" What 
though the " Holy City " is " trodden down of the Gentiles," 
and mockery is enshrined in its sanctuary ! The glens which 
echoed back the monarch minstrel's song, the sacred court 
within whose colossal walls Israel assembled to worship a pre- 
sent God, the hills over which Jesus walked, and on whose 
sides He taught and prayed, the vines, the figs, the olives which 
suggested his beautiful parables, — all are there ; and no con- 
troversies or scandals can ever change their features, or rob us 
of the hallowed memories they recall and the illustrations of 
divine truth they afford. 




\ 



II. 



(l be (Tombs of fbe Mob €xto. 

" But we must wander witheringly 
In other lands to die ; 
And where our fathers' ashes be, 
Our own may never lie." 

may the poor Jew now sadly sing as he wanders, a 
despised and persecuted outcast, among the desola- 
tions of the once proud capital of his ancestors. 
Wherever he turns his eyes — on Zion, Moriah, Olivet — he is 
reminded by rock-hewn monument and yawning cave, that 
Jerusalem is not only his holy city, but that the ashes of his 
ancestors are there ; that it is, as the captive said in Babylon, 
" the place of my fathers' sepulchres" (Xeh. ii. 3). The tombs 
are among the most interesting monuments of Jerusalem. 
The temple " hath not left one stone;" the palaces of Solomon 
and Herod have long since crumbled to dust; the Jerusalem of 
the prophets and apostles "became heaps " (Jer. ix. n) cen- 
turies ago; but the tombs remain almost as perfect as when the 
princes of Israel were there laid " in glory, every one in his own 
house" (Isa. xiv. 18). I was sadly disappointed when, after 
days and weeks of careful and toilsome research, I could only 
discover a very few authentic vestiges of " the city of the Great 
King;" — a few fragments of the colossal wall that enclosed the 
temple courts : a few broken shafts here and there in the lanes, 
or protruding from some noisome rubbish heap ; a few remnants 




JERUSALEM UNDERGROUND. 



135 



of the fortifications that once defended Zion. All besides is 
gone; buried deep, deep beneath modern dwellings. 

When excavating for the foundation of the English Church, 
portions of the old houses and aqueducts of Zion were found 
nearly forty feet below the present surface ! We need not 
wonder that the identification of the particular buildings of 
primitive ages is now so difficult ; and that even the position of 
the valleys which once divided the quarters of the city, has 
come to be subject of keen controversy among antiquarians. 
The city of Herod was built on the ruins of the city of Solomon; 
the city of the Crusaders was built on the ruins of that of 
Herod ; and modern Jerusalem is founded on the ruins of them 
all. Hills and cliffs have been rounded off ; ravines have been 
filled up ; palaces and fortresses have been overthrown, and 
their very ruins have been covered over with the rubbish of 
millenniums. Could David revisit his royal capital, or could 
Herod come back to the scene of his magnificence and his 
crimes, or could Godfrey rise from his tomb, so complete has 
been the desolation, so great the change even in the features 
of the site, that I believe they would find as much difficulty in 
settling topographical details as modern scholars do. 

Nothing but excavation can settle satisfactorily and finally 
the vexed questions of Jerusalem's topography. A week's work 
in trenches would do more to solve existing mysteries than 
scores of volumes and years of learned research. It may well 
excite the wonder of Biblical scholars, that while the mounds 
of Assyria, and Babylonia, and Chaldea, have been excavated 
at enormous cost, not a shilling has been expended upon the 
Holy City. By judicious excavation, under the direction of an 
accomplished antiquarian, the lines of the ancient walls, the 
sites of the great buildings, the sepulchres of the kings, and the 
beds of the valleys, might all be traced. A flood of light would 
thus be shed upon one of the most interesting departments of 
Biblical topography ; and who can tell what precious treasures 



136 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



of ancient art might be discovered 1 Will no man of influence 
and wealth in our country undertake this work? Will no 
learned society contribute of its funds to carry it out 1 Will 
not our beloved Prince, who has already rendered such signal 
service at Hebron, render a still greater service to Biblical 
knowledge, by encouraging such an enterprise 1 

It is pleasant to think that amid ruin and confusion there 
are still some monuments left in and around the Holy City, as 
connecting links between the present and the distant past. 
The sepulchres of the Jewish nobles remain though their palaces 
are gone. We can see where they were buried, if we cannot 
see where they lived. I could not describe with what intense 
emotion I heard my friends speak familiarly of the tombs of 
David and Absalom, of the Judges, the kings, and the prophets \ 
and what was the excited state of my feelings when they pro- 
posed one bright morning a walk to Tophet and Aceldama. 
Some of these names may be, and doubtless are, apocryphal ; 
none of them may be able to stand the test of full historic 
investigation; but the high antiquity of the monuments them- 
selves cannot be denied ; and an inspection of them is alike 
interesting and instructive, from the light they throw upon the 
customs of God's ancient people, and from the illustrations they 
afford of many passages in God's Word. 

JEWISH TOMBS. 

The earliest burial-places on record were caves. When 
Sarah died, Abraham bought the cave of Machpelah, and 
buried her there. Samuel is said to have been buried " in his 
house at Ramah" (1 Sam. xxv. 1); by which, I believe, is meant 
the tomb he had excavated for himself there, for the Hebrew 
word Beth, " house," is sometimes used to signify tomb, as in 
Isaiah xiv. 18, and Eccles. xii. 5, "Man goeth to his long home" 
literally "to his eternal house." We read, moreover, of King Asa, 
that " they buried him in his own sepulchre which he had digged 



FORM AND CHAR A CTER OF JE WISH TOMBS. 1 3 7 

for himself m the city of David" (2 Chron. xvi. 14). Elisha 
was buried in a cave (2 Kings xiii. 21); the sepulchre of 
Lazarus was a cave (John xi. 38); and the Holy Sepulchre was 
a new cave which Joseph of Arimathea had " hewn out in the 
rock " for himself (Matt, xxvii. 60). 

In our own land we are all familiar with the grassy mounds 
and marble monuments which fill the cemeteries, and which 
pass away almost as quickly as man himself. In Rome and 
Pompeii we see the habitations of the dead lining the great 
highways, and crumbling to ruin like the palaces of their 
tenants. But the moment we set our feet on the shores of 
Palestine, we feel that we are in an ancient country — the home 
of a primeval people, whose tombs appear in cliff and glen, and 
mountain-side, all hewn in the living rock, and permanent as 
the rock itself. The tombs of Jerusalem are rock-hewn caves. 
I found them in every direction. Wherever the face of a crag 
affords space for an architectural facade, or a projecting rock a 
fitting place for excavation, there is sure to be a sepulchre. 
I visited them on Olivet and Scopus, on Zion and Moriah, 
inside the modern city and outside; but they chiefly abound in 
the rocky banks of Hinnom and the Kidron. Near the junction 
of these ravines, the overhanging cliffs are actually honeycombed. 
Hundreds of dark openings were in view when I stood beside 
En-Rogel. Some of these tombs are small grottoes, with only 
one or two receptacles for bodies; others are of great extent, 
containing chambers, galleries, passages, and locu/i, almost 
without number, each tomb forming a little necropolis. The 
doors are low and narrow, so as to be shut by a single slab. 
This slab was called go/a/, that is, "a thing rolled," from the 
fact that it was rolled back from the opening in a groove made 
for it. The stone being heavy, and the groove generally 
inclining upwards, the operation of opening required a con- 
siderable exertion of strength. Hence the anxious inquiry of 
the two Marys, " Who shall roll us away the stone from the 



1 3 8 JER US ALE 31 A XD ITS ENVIR ONS. 

door of the sepulchre?" (Mark xvl 3). The stone always 
fitted closely, and could easily be sealed with one of those 
large signets such as were then in use. Or perhaps the Holy 
Sepulchre may have had a wedge, or small bar, pushed into the 
rock behind it, like that at the tombs of the kings (described 
below), and preventing the stone from being rolled back. To 
this the seal might be attached (Matt, xxvii. 66). I had always 
to stoop low on entering the doors, which reminded me of 
Peter at the sepulchre (Luke xxiv. 12). The facades of many 
are elaborately ornamented; but one thing is very remarkable, 
they contain no inscriptions. The tombs of Egypt are covered 
with hieroglyphics, giving long histories of the dead, and of the 
honours paid to their remains. The tombs of Palmyra not 
only have written tablets over the entrances; but every separate 
niche, or Zoculus, in the interior has its inscription. I have 
counted more than fifty such in a single mausoleum; yet I have 
never been able to discover a single letter in one of the tombs 
of the Holy City, nor a single painting, sculpture, or carving 
on any ancient Jewish tomb in Palestine, calculated to throw 
light on the story, name, or rank of the dead. 

Simplicity and security appear to have been the only things 
the Jews aimed at in the construction of their sepulchres. To 
be buried with their fathers was their only ambition. They 
seem to have had no desire to transmit their names to posterity 
through the agency of their graves. It has been well said that 
the words, " Let me bury my dead out of my sight," " No man 
knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day " — express, if not the 
general feeling of the Jewish nation, at least the general spirit 
of the Old Testament. With the Jews the tomb was an 
unclean place, which men endeavoured to avoid rather than 
honour by pilgrimages. The homage paid to them is of late 
date, and the offspring of a corrupt age. When near relatives 
died it was, as it still is, customary for females to go and weep at 
their graves, as Martha and Mary did at the grave of Lazarus; 



JEWSH MODE OF BURIAL. 



139 



but the dead were soon forgotten, and except in the case of a 
few of the patriarchs, kings (Acts vii. 16, ii. 29), and prophets 
(Matt, xxiii. 29) we have no record of tombs having been even 
held in remembrance. 

There were always a few in every age who coveted outward 
show and splendour in their tombs, as well as in their houses. 
Such was the upstart Shebna, whose vanity and pretension the 
prophet Isaiah describes and denounces : " What hast thou here, 
and whom hast thou here, that thou hast hewed thee out a 
sepulchre here, as he that heweth him out a sepulchre on high, 
that graveth an habitation for himself in a rock'? " (xxii. 16.) It 
is evident that the greater part of the ornamented facades, and 
architectural tombs, are of a late date, and not purely Jewish. 

JEWISH MODE OF BURIAL. 

The Jews used no coffins or sarcophagi. The body was 
washed (Acts ix. 37), anointed (Mark xvi. ij John xix. 40), 
wrapped in linen cloths (John xix. 40; xi. 44), and laid in the 
niche prepared for it — an excavation about two feet wide, three 
high, and six deep, opening endwise in the side of the rock- 
chamber, as is represented in the diagrams given below. The 
mouth of the loculus was then shut by a slab of stone, and 
sealed with cement. In some cases the bodies were laid on a 
kind of open shelf, such as I have seen in many of the 
chambers. It was thus our Lord was laid, for John tells us 
that Mary " stooped down into the sepulchre, and seeth two 
angels, the one at the head and the other at the feet, where the 
body of Jesus had lain" (xx. 12). 

The kings of Israel were buried with more pomp. In 
addition to the anointing of the sweet spices, " burnings " were 
made for them. Thus Jeremiah says to Zedekiah: "Thou 
shalt die in peace ; and with the burnings of thy fathers, the 
former kings which were before thee, so shall they bum for 
thee." And in the case of Asa we are told there was " a great 



UO JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 

burning n (2 Chron. xvi. 14). It is not meant that the bodies 
were burned, but that sweet spices and perfumes were burned 
in honour of them, and probably in their sepulchres. The 
bodies of Saul and Jonathan are the only ones which we read 
of as having been burned (1 Sam. xxxi. 11-13). 

THE TOMB OF DAVID. 

On the southern brow of Zion, outside the modern walls, 
there is a little group of buildings distinguished from afar by a 
dome and lofty minaret. These, according to an old tradition, 
believed in alike by Jews, Christians, and Mohammedans, cover 
the sepulchre of Israel's minstrel king. As matters now stand 
the truth of the tradition can neither be proved nor disproved. 
The Turks esteem the spot one of their very holiest shrines, 
and they will neither examine it themselves nor permit others 
to do so. No place about Jerusalem, not even the Haram, is 
guarded with such jealousy. I visited the building frequently: 
I walked , round and through it: I peeped into every hole, 
window, and passage accessible to me : I tried soft words and 
even a liberal bakhshish with the gentlemanly old keeper : but it 
was all in vain; I saw no more than my predecessors had done. 

The principal apartment in the group of buildings is a Gothic 
chamber, evidently a Christian church of the crusading age, 
though probably built on an older site, or perhaps reconstructed 
out of an earlier model. Tradition has filled it with "holy 
places," making it the scene of the Last Supper (hence its name 
Coenaculum), of the meeting after the Resurrection, of the 
miracle of Pentecost, of the residence and death of the Virgin, 
and of the burial of Stephen. At its eastern end is a little 
chancel where Romish priests sometimes celebrate mass; and 
on the south side is a mihrab where Moslems pray. It is thus 
a grand centre of tradition, superstition, and imposture. 

The crypt is the real holy place. A portion of it has been 
walled off and consecrated as a mosque-mausoleum. So sacred 



TOMB OF DAVID. 



141 



is it, that none have the entree, not even Muslem santons or 
grandees — except the sheikh who keeps it, and the members of 
his family. Fiirer, a German traveller of the sixteenth century, 
tells us he gained access to it, and he probably saw the interior. 
In 1839 Sir Moses Montefiore was permitted to approach an 
iron railing and look into the chamber which contains the 
tomb j but he could not enter. The Jew is shut out alike from 
the Temple and tombs of his fathers. 

Miss Barclay, a young American lady, (daughter of the author 
of "The City of the' Great King,") has been more fortunate. 
She gained admission to the mausoleum with a female friend, 
a near relative of the keeper; she spent an hour in the sanctuary, 
took a sketch of the interior, and has given us the following 
description of what she saw : " The room is insignificant in its 
dimensions, but is furnished very gorgeously. The tomb is 
apparently an immense sarcophagus of rough stone, and is 
covered by green satin tapestry, richly embroidered with gold. 
A satin canopy of red, blue, green, and yellow stripes hangs 
over the tomb ; and another piece of black velvet tapestry, em- 
broidered in silver, covers a door hi one end of the room which, 
they said, leads to a cave underneath. Two tall silver candlesticks 
stand before this door, and a little lamp hangs in a window near 

it, which is kept constantly burning The ceiling of the 

room is vaulted, and the walls covered with blue porcelain in 
floral figures." 

Such then is the present state of the reputed tomb of David. 
It is well known, however, that the Muslems carefully shut up 
their most sacred shrines, and construct others either directly 
over them or close beside them, which they visit and venerate 
as the real places. So it is at the tomb of Abraham in Hebron, 
and so, doubtless, it is here. The real sepulchre, if here at all, 
is in a vault beneath, and the door mentioned by Miss Barclay 
probably leads to it. No fact in the Word of God is more 
plainly stated than this, that David, and most of his successors 
ao> 10 



i 4 2 JER USA LEM AND ITS ENVIR ONS. 

on the throne of Israel, were buried in the " city of David," that 
is, in Zion (i Kings ii. jo; xi. 43; xv. 24, &c.) The royal 
sepulchres were well known after the return of the Jews from 
Babylon, and Nehemiah incidentally describes their position 
(iii. 1 5, 16). Josephus says that Solomon buried David with great 
pomp, and placed immense treasures in his tomb. These remained 
undisturbed until Hyrcanus, when besieged by Antiochus, 
opened one room and took out three thousand talents to buy off 
the enemy. Herod the Great also plundered the tomb ; and it 
is said that two of his guards were killed by a flame that burst 
upon them when engaged in the sacrilegious act. We have a 
still later testimony to the preservation of the tomb in the words 
of the apostle Peter regarding David : " His sepulchre is with 
us unto this day" (Acts ii. 29). We hear no more of it till the 
1 2th century, when Benjamin of Tudela relates the following' 
strange story, which I insert as perhaps having some slight 
foundation in fact : — 

" On Mount Zion are the sepulchres of the house of David. 
In consequence of the following circumstance, this place is 
hardly to be recognised. Fifteen years ago one of the walls of 
/he church on Zion fell down, and the patriarch ordered the 
priest to repair it, and to take the stones requisite from the old 

wall of Zion Two labourers when thus employed, found a 

stone which covered the mouth of a cave. This they entered 
in search of treasures, and reached a large hall, supported by 
pillars of marble, encrusted with gold and silver, and before 
which stood a table with a golden sceptre and crown. This 
was the sepulchre of David; to the left they saw that of Solomon 
in a similar state; and so on the sepulchres of the other kings 
buried there. They saw chests locked up, and were on the point 
of entering when a blast of wind rushing out threw them lifeless 
on the ground. They lay there senseless until evening, and 
then they heard a voice commanding them to go forth from the 
place. The patriarch on hearing the story orderedrthe tomb 



TOPHET. 



to be walled up." The royal sepulchres were doubtless hewn 
in the rock, like all those of great men in that age; and they 
must still exist. Excavation, or at least a full exploration of 
the place, will alone solve the mystery. Of one thing we may 
be assured, that the sepulchre of David cannot have been far 
distant from the building now said to stand over it. 

TOPHET. 

On one occasion, after a long visit to Zion, I walked down 
through the terraced corn-fields on its southern declivity into 
the deep glen of Hinnom. The sun was low in the west, and the 
ravine, with its rugged cliffs, and dusky olive groves, was thrown 
into deep shadow. Not a human being was there, and no sound 
from the city broke in upon the silence. The high rocks along 
the whole southern bank are honey-combed with tombs, whose 
dark mouths made the place look still more gloomy. Already the 
jackals had left their lairs, and numbers of them ran out and in 
of the sepulchres, and prowling among the rocks and through 
the olive trees. As I wandered on down Hinnom towards the 
Kidron I observed that the tombs became more and more 
numerous, until at length, at the junction of the valleys, every 
available spot in the surrounding cliffs and rocks was excavated. 
They are mostly plain chambers, or groups of chambers opening 
into each other, hewn in the soft limestone, without any attempt 
at ornament, save, here and there, a moulding round the door. 
I observed a few Hebrew and Greek inscriptions, but of late 
date — certainly not older than the ninth or tenth century. 

Here, in the mouth of Hinnom, was situated the Tophet of 
the Bible, — originally, perhaps, a " music bower," or " pleasure 
garden" of Solomon's; but afterwards desecrated by lust, and 
denied by the offerings of Baal and the fires of 

" Moloch, horrid king, besmeared with blood 
Of human sacrifice and parents' tears." 



144 JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 

It finally became so notorious for its abominations that it 
was regarded as the "very type of hell;" and the name of the 
valley, Ge-Hinnom, in Greek Gehenna, was given by the Jews 
to the infernal regions. Jeremiah gives some terrible sketches 
of the fearful atrocities perpetrated in this spot in the name of 
religion (vii. 31); and he depicts the judgments which the Lord 
pronounced on the city and people on account of them (xix. 
6-15). Standing on the brink of the valley I saw how literally 
one part of the curse had been fulfilled : — " Wherefore the days 
come when it shall no more be called Tophet, nor the valley of 
Ben-Hinnom, but the valley of Slaughter; for they shall bury in 
Tophet till there be no plaee " (vii. 32). And as I returned that 
evening up the Kidron to my home on Olivet, I saw what 
seemed to me another terrible illustration of the outpouring of 
the curse. I saw hyenas, jackals, and vultures tearing the 
corpses from the shallow graves in the modern Jewish cemetery. 
With what harrowing vividness did the prophet's dire prediction 
then flash upon my mind : — " Their carcases will I give to be 
meat for the fowls of heaven, a?idfor the beasts of the earth. And 
I will make this city desolate, and an hissing; every one that 
passeth thereby shall be astonished and hiss, because of all the 
plagues thereof" (xix. 7, 8). 

ACELDAMA. 

On another occasion I went to the necropolis of Tophet with 
a double purpose, — to explore the rock tombs more thoroughly, 
and to see the painting of the Valley of Jehoshaphat, which the 
lamented Mr. Seddon was just then completing. He had pitched 
his little tent at the door of an old sepulchre on the brow of the 
hill ; and as we approached an armed goat-herd was before him, 
whom he was working into the foreground. I was equally de- 
lighted and surprised at the boldness of design, the faithfulness 
of colouring, and the scrupulous accuracy of detail in that ad- 
mirable picture. He kindly left his work, and walked away with 



A CELDAMA. 



US 



us to Aceldema. Another artist was of our party, whose brilli- 
ant genius was then reproducing, with all the vividness and 
faithfulness of reality, the scene of The Finding of Christ in 
the Temple. That day will ever remain as one of the sunny 
spots on memory's clouded landscape. 

Tomb after tomb we passed and explored, lighting up their 
gloomy chambers and narrow loculi with our torches, and won- 
dering at the endless variety and numbers of these homes of 
the forgotten dead. At length we reached a narrow ledge or 
terrace, on the steep bank, directly facing the pool of Siloam. 
Here was a large square edifice, half excavated in the living 
rock, half built of massive masonry. Looking in through a 
rent in the wall, we found that it was a vast charnel house, 
some twenty feet deep, the bottom covered with dust and 
mouldering bones. This is Aceldama, "the field of blood;" 
bought with the " thirty pieces of silver, the price of Him that 
was valued, whom they of the children of Israel did value" 
(Matt, xxvii. 9). The tradition which identifies it is at least as 
old as the fourth century; and it is a remarkable fact that the 
peculiar clay on the adjoining terraces would seem to show that 
this had once been a "potter's field:" — "They took counsel, 
and bought with them the potter's field to bury strangers in" 
(ver. 7). 

siloam. 

I had often been struck with the quaint and picturesque ap- 
pearance of the little hamlet of Silwdn, whose houses seem to 
cling like swallows' nests to the gray cliffs of Olivet. It takes 
its name from the fountain on the opposite side of the Kidron, 
at the base of Moriah ; and it alone brings down to modern 
times the sacred name of " the waters of Siloah that flow softly" 
(Isa. viii. 6), and of that "pool of Siloam" in which our Lord 
commanded the blind man to wash (John ix. 7). Its inhabit- 
ants have a bad name, and are known to be lawless, fanatical 
vagabonds. I resolved, however, to explore their den, and J 



*4 6 JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



succeeded, notwithstanding repeated volleys of threats and 
curses, intermixed now and again with a stone or two. I was 
well repaid. The village stands on a necropolis ; and the habi- 
tations are all half caves, half buildings, — a single room, or rude 
porch, being attached to the front of a rock tomb. It is a 
strange wild place. On every side I heard children's prattle 
issuing from the gloomy chambers of ancient sepulchres. Look- 
ing into one I saw an infant cradled in an old sarcophagus. 
The larger tombs, where the ashes of Israel's nobles once 
reposed, were now filled with sheep and goats, and lambs and 
kids gambolled merrily among the loculi. The steep hill-side 
appears to have been hewn into irregular terraces, and along 
these the sepulchres were excavated, one above another. They 
are better finished than those of Tophet ; and a few of them 
are Egyptian in style, and may, perhaps, be of that age when 
Egyptian influence was strong at the court of Solomon (i Kings 
vii. 8-12; xi. 7; 2 Kings xxiii. 3; 2 Chrom viii. 11). 

Absalom's pillar. 
The most picturesque group of sepulchral monuments around 
the Holy City is that in the valley of the Kidron, just beneath 
the south-east angle of the Haram. There are four tombs here 
in a range, which, from their position in the deep narrow glen, 
and from the style of their architecture, cannot fail to arrest the 
attention of every visitor to the Holy City. I walked up to 
them from Siloam. That was a sad walk. I can never forget 
the horrid sights I saw. The whole side of Olivet is covered 
with Jewish graves. In most cases the bodies have only a few 
inches of loose earth thrown over them, and then a broad stone 
is laid on the top. All-round me were revolting evidences of 
the carnival held nightly there by dogs, jackals, and hyenas. 
Vultures were enjoying a horrid banquet within a stone's throw 
of me ; and gorged with food, they seemed fearless of my ap- 
proach. Never before had the degradations to which the poor 



ABSALOJlfS PILLAR, 



147 



Jews must now submit been brought before my mind with such 
harrowing vividness : — 

" Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, 
How shall you flee away and be at rest? 
The wild dove hath her nest, the fox his cave, 
Mankind their country, — Israel but the grave !" 

The Tomb or Pillar of Absalom is a cubical structure, hewn 
out of the rock, measuring twenty-two feet on each side, and 
ornamented with Ionic pilasters. It is surmounted by a circu- 
lar cone of masonry, terminating in a tuft of palm leaves. In 
the interior is a small excavated chamber, with two niches for 
bodies/ The architecture shows at once that this cannot be 
the " pillar" which Absalom had " reared up for himself during 
his lifetime in the king's dale" (2 Sam. xviii. 18); and indeed, 
his name was only attached to it about the twelfth century. It 
resembles some of the tombs of Petra ; and may, perhaps, be 
the work of one of the Herods, who were, of Idumean descent. 

A few yards farther south is another monolithic structure, 
somewhat resembling the preceding, and now usually called the 
Tomb of Zacharias — that Zachariaswho was stoned in the court 
of the Temple in the reign of Joash (2 Chron. xxiv. 21); and 
to whom Christ refers, as slain between the temple and the 
altar (Matt, xxiii. 35). But there is no evidence to connect the 
monument with this or any other Old Testament worthy. The 
Jews hold it in high veneration ; and the dearest wish of their 
hearts is to have their bones laid beside it. The whole ground 
around its base is crowded with graves. 

Between these two monuments is a large excavated chamber 
in the side of the cliff, having a Doric porch supported by two 
columns. Within it are several spacious vaults, and numerous 
loculi for bodies. Here, says tradition, the Apostle James 
found an asylum during the interval between the crucifixion 
and the resurrection. The story is, of course, apocryphal, and 
was not attached to the tomb till about the fourteenth century. 



■ 48 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



The view of the Kidron valley from this spot is singularly impres- 
sive. There is nothing like it in Palestine, or elsewhere. The 
valley is deep, rugged, and altogether destitute of verdure. On 
one side Moriah rises in banks of naked rock and bare shelving 
acclivities, until it is crowned, far overhead, by the colossal 
wall of the Haram ; on the other side the limestone cliffs are 
hewn out into architectural facades, and stately monuments, 
and yawning sepulchres; while away above them, here and 
there, a patriarchal olive, with sparse branches and great 
gnarled arms, stands forsaken and desolate, like the last tree 
of a forest. 

THE TOMBS OF THE PROPHETS. 

High up on the brow of Olivet, between the footpath that 
leads to the Church of the Ascension and the main road to 
Bethany, is a very remarkable catacomb, of the most ancient 
Jewish type. It is now called the Tomb of the Prophets, though 
there is no inscription, or historical memorial, or even ancient 




tradition, to justify the name. Equipped in a " working cos- 
tume," and furnished with a handful of little candles, we started 



THE VIRGIN'S TOMB. 



1 49 



early one morning to explore it. Crawling into a narrow hole 
in an open field, and then down a long gallery, we reached a 
circular vault, twenty-four feet in diameter ; from it two parallel 
galleries, five feet wide and ten feet high, are carried through 
the rock for some twenty yards ; a third runs in another direc- 
tion ; and they are all connected by cross galleries, the outer 
one Of which is forty yards in length, and has a range of thirty 
loculi for bodies. The accompanying diagram will show the 
intricate plan and singular structure of these interesting cata- 
combs better than any description. 

TOMB OF THE VIRGIN. 

In coming forth again to the light of day, which, after the 
darkness, seemed doubly brilliant, we descended the hill-side, 
and paid a passing visit to the tomb of Mary. It is a quaint, 
but singularly picturesque structure, and must excite the admira- 
tion of every pilgrim to Gethsemane and Olivet. Grey and 
worn with age, deeply set among the rocky roots of the mount, 
shaded by venerable olive trees, it is one of those buildings which 
even all the absurdity of tradition cannot divest of interest. On 
entering the door we had a long descent by some sixty steps to 
the chapel, a gloomy, rugged, natural cave, partly remodelled 
by human hands. Here tradition has placed the empty tomb 
of the Virgin ; and here Popery has fixed the scene of the 
Assumption. 

We walked on up the glen, through olive groves which seem 
denser and more ancient than anywhere else^ound the city. 
The rocky banks on both sides, but especially on that next 
Jerusalem, are filled with tombs ; and I felt strongly impressed 
that some one of these was that "new tomb" which Joseph 
of Arimathea " had hewn for himself" in his garden, in which 
Jesus was laid. Continuing our walk, we saw traces of Agrippa's 
wall on the brow of the glen. Then, after crossing the Ana- 
thoth road, and turning westward, we came upon more sepulchres, 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



with richly ornamented doorways. But by far the most mag- 
nificent sepulchre in this region, and indeed around Jerusalem, 
is the so-called 

TOMB OF THE KINGS. 

This remarkable catacomb is half a mile from the city, not 
far from the great northern road. On reaching the spot we* find 
a broad trench, hewn in the rock to the depth of eighteen feet. 
An inclined plane leads down to it. Then we pass, by a very 
low doorway, through a wall of rock seven feet thick, into a court 
ninety-two feet long, eighty-seven broad, and about twenty deep, 
all excavated in the living rock. The sides are hewn quite 
smooth. On the western side is a vestibule, originally supported 
by two columns. The front has a deep frieze and cornice, richly 
ornamented with clusters of grapes, triglyphs, and paterae, alter- 
nating over a continuous garland of fruit and foliage, which 
was carried down the sides. Unfortunately, this beautiful facade 
is almost obliterated. When perfect, it must have been mag- 
nificent. 

The entrance to the tomb is at the southern end of the 
vestibule. The door, with its approaches and fastenings, is 
one of the most remarkable and ingenious pieces of mechanism 
which has come down to us from antiquity. The whole is now 
in a ruinous state ; but enough remains to show what it once 
was. The door could only be reached by a subterranean pas- 
sage, the entrance to which was a small trap-door in the floor 
of the vestibule ; and when reached, it was found to be covered 
by a circular stone, like a small millstone, which had to be 
"rolled away" to the side, up an inclined plane. In addition 
to this there was another large stone, which could be slid in 
behind the door, at right angles, along a concealed groove, and 
which held it immovably in its place. And there was, besides, 
an inner door of stone, opening on a pivot, and shutting by its 
own weight. The interior arrangements of this splendid monu- 



TOMBS OF THE KINGS. 



ment will be best understood by the accompanying plan. In 
one respect it differs from all the other sepulchres yet known 




about Jerusalem — the inner chamber, which is several feet 
lower than any of the others, formerly contained two sarco- 
phagi of white marble, beautifully ornamented with wreaths of 
flowers. The most perfect of them was carried away by the 
well-known French savan, M. de Saulcy, and placed in the 
museum of the Louvre. The other is in fragments. 

Even this tomb contains no record of its history. The 
memory and the names of those who were laid here in royal 
state cannot now be ascertained with certainty. There is a 
high probability that it was the sepulchre of Helena, the 
widowed queen of Adiabene. It is known that she became a 
proselyte to Judaism, resided in the Holy City daring the 
apostolic age, and made for herself a great sepulchre. Able 
scholars have questioned the identity. Be this as it may, we 
have here a costly, grand, and strongly guarded sepulchre, 
now opened, wrecked, and rifled, as if to show that man's 
home is not, cannot be, on earth. 

Other celebrated tombs I visited and explored. The Tombs 
of the Judges ; a mile farther north; the Tomb of El Musahny, 
recently discovered, and of the earliest Jewish type; the Tomb 



152 JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 

of Helena, &c. I need not describe them. The general plan 
of all is the same; and all are equally without story, without 
name, and without tenant. The hand of the spoiler has not 
even spared the ashes of fallen, outcast Israel. The time fore- 
told by Jeremiah has come : — " At that time, saith the Lord, 
they shall bring out the bones of the kings of Judah, and the 
bones of his princes, and the bones of the priests, and the bones 
of the inhabitants of Jerusalem, out of their graves : and they 
shall spread them before the sun, and the moon, and all the 
host of heaven .... they shall not be gathered nor be buried ; 
they shall be for dung upon the face of the earth" (viii. i, 2). 



III. 



" In the daytime he was teaching in the temple, and at night he went out and abode in 
the mount that is called the Mount of Olives." — Luke xxi. 37. 

HE name Olivet goes direct to the Christian's heart, 
and awakens the deepest and holiest feelings there. 
It recalls so many memories of Jesus, — of his won- 
drous power and still more wondrous love, — of his human 
sympathies aud his divine teachings, — of the greatness of his 
agony and the glories of his triumph, — that the heart overflows 
with love and gratitude the moment the name falls upon the 
ear. With Gethsemane on one side and Bethany on the other; 
with paths, well marked, connecting them, often trodden by 
the Son of Man ; with gardens of olives and vineyards between, 
where he was wont to pray for his people and weep for a sinful 
world; with one spot upon those terraced slopes overlooking 
the wilderness, where his feet stood on the eve of the Ascension, 
and where his wondering disciples received from white-robed 
angels the joyous promise of his second advent. — With these 
hallowed associations clustering round it, surely it will be 
admitted that, above and beyond all places in Palestine, Olivet 
witnessed " God manifest in flesh." 

" Here may we sit and dream 
Over the heavenly theme, 
Till to our soul the former days return. 
* * * * 

Or choose thee out a cell 
In Kidron's storied dell, 



154 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



Beside the springs of love that never die ; 

Among the olives kneel, 

The chill night blast to feel, 
And watch the moon that saw thy Master's agony." 

Yet I was disappointed in Olivet, — not in its associations; 
no Christian could be disappointed in these, — but in its appear- 
ance. One always expects to find something in a holy or 
historic place worthy of its history. Here there is nothing. 
When approaching Jerusalem from the west I looked, but I 
looked in vain, for any "mountain" or even "mount" that the 
eye could at once rest on and identify as Olivet. Beyond the 
grey battlements of the city lay a long ridge, barely overtopping 
the Castle of David, and the higher buildings on Zion, — 
drooping to the right it opens a view of the distant mountains 
of Moab, and running away far to the north it fills in the whole 
background. This is Olivet It has no striking features ; it 
might be said to have no features at all. It is rounded, regular, 
colourless; and the air is so clear and the colouring so de- 
fective, that it seems to rise immediately out of the city. In 
the distance the outline is almost horizontal, but as one draws 
near it becomes wavy, and at length three tops or eminences 
can be distinguished, the central and highest crowned with the 
dome and minaret of the " Church of the Ascension," and the 
other two about equi-distant to the right and left. Photographs 
show these peculiarities, and consequently look flat and un- 
interesting; while in every sketch I have seen, the imagination 
of the artist has greatly increased both the apparent distance 
and elevation of Olivet, thus sacrificing truth to effect. 

When I passed ^round the city and stood on the brow of the 
Kidron, at the north-east angle of the wall, the view was much 
more impressive ; in fact, this is one of the most picturesque 
views about Jerusalem. Olivet now assumed the appearance of 
a " mount." At my feet was the deep glen, shaded with dusky 
olive groves ; and from the bottom swelled up in grey terraced 



FEATURES OF OLIVET. 



155 



slopes and grey limestone crags, nearly six hundred feet, the hill- 
side. Close on my right was the city wall, running south in a 
straight line near — not upon — the rocky edge of the ravine, till 
it joined the loftier and more massive wall of the Haram. The 
depth of the Kidron and the comparative elevation and re- 
spective positions of Moriah and Olivet are seen from this point 
to great advantage. The sides of the two hills meet, and here 
and there overlap in the bottom of the narrow crooked glen ; 
while the summits are barely half a mile apart, — Olivet over- 
topping its sister three hundred feet. The side of Moriah is 
steep and bare as if scarped ; while the whole of Olivet is culti- 
vated in little terraced fields of wheat and barley, intermixed 
with a few straggling vines trailing along the ground or hanging 
over the rude terrace walls. Fig trees are seen at intervals, but 
olives are still, as they were in our Lord's days, the prevailing 
trees on the mount. It has as good a title now as it perhaps 
ever had to the name " Olivet" Olive trees dot it all over, — in 
some places far apart, in others closer together, though nowhere 
so close as to form groves. Most of them are old, gnarled, and 
stunted, a few are propped up and in the last stage of decay, 
and I saw scarcely any young vigorous trees. 

I endeavoured, when residing on the Mount of Olives, to 
localize every incident of Scripture history of which it was the 
scene, to bring together the sacred narrative and the sacred 
place, — so to group, in fact, the various actors on the spots 
where they acted, that the stories might be made to assume to 
my mind as far as possible the semblance of reality. I tried to 
follow every footstep of David, and of David's Greater Son, — to 
recall every circumstance, and note every local characteristic, and 
every topographical feature that might illustrate the prophecies 
and parables, the discourses, miracles, and walks of our Lord. 
Some of the leading points are fixed, and cannot be mistaken, 
such as Bethany, and Jerusalem, and the one great road from 
the city, deeply cut in zigzag lines down the steep side of 



156 JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 

Moriah from St. Stephen's gate to the bridge over the Kidron. 
Then there are the two main roads over Olivet to Bethany, 
branching at the bridge, — the one crossing the summit almost 
in a straight line, is steep, rugged, and only fit for pedestrians 
or active cavaliers ; the other, diverging to the right, winds 
round the southern shoulder of the hill, and is easier, and better 
adapted for caravans and processions. Many difficulties met 
me in the arrangement of details. Gradually, however, they 
cleared away. Daily study of the Record, and daily examina- 
tion of the mount, removed one after another, until at length 
the texts and places, the stories and the scenes, so completely 
harmonized and blended that they formed one series of graphic 
and vivid life pictures. 

I shall now try to show my reader what I saw myself, and 
make Olivet to him what it must ever henceforth be to me, — 
one of the most venerated and instructive spots on earth. True, 
Christianity is not a religion of " holy places on the contrary, 
the whole spirit of the Gospel, — the whole writings and teachings 
of our Lord and his apostles, tend to withdraw men's minds 
from an attachment to places, and to lead them to worship a 
spiritual God "in spirit and in truth." It was not without a 
wise purpose that the exact scenes of the Annunciation, the 
Nativity, the Crucifixion, the Resurrection, and the Ascension, 
were left unknown ; and that these events themselves were made 
to stand altogether unconnected with places, giving no sanctity 
to them, and deriving no superior efficacy from them. God 
thus took away all ground and excuse for that superstition which 
will only offer its incense at an earthly shrine. He showed that 
Christianity was designed to be the religion of the world, and 
not merely of Palestine, — that the story of Jesus and his salva- 
tion was written not for one nation, but to be read and under- 
stood equally by all mankind. 

This is true : and yet it is no less true that when we stand 
v upon the spot where the discourses of the Gospel were delivered, 



GETHSEMANE. 



*57 



or where the incidents of the Gospel occurred, — when we look 
upon the very objects which called forth the sayings of our 
Lord, or which gave a turn and a point to his language, or which 
furnished his illustrations, or which formed the subjects of his 
prophetic denunciations, a flood of light is thrown upon the 
record, and the various statements, discourses, and stories assume 
a freshness, a life-like vividness, which equally delights and 
astonishes us. 

GETHSEMANE. 

It would appear that our Lord, during his visits to Jerusalem, 
never spent a night in the city. Sometimes he walked to 
Bethany, but usually he made the Mount of Olives his home. 
Thus we read in John, " Every man went unto his own house, 
Jesus went tmto the Moufit of Olives " (vii. 53 ; viii. 1) ; and Luke, 
narrating the events of another visit, says, " In the daytime he 
was teaching in the Temple ; and at night he went out and 
abode in the mount that is called the Mount of Olives" (xxi. 37). 
A habit is here spoken of, — the usual practice of our Lord, as 
is still more plainly intimated in the story of his betrayal, — 
" He came out, and went, as he was wont, to the Mount of 
Olives " (ver. 39 ; see also John xviii. 2). It appears, moreover, 
that there was one particular " place " on the mount to which 
he was accustomed to go, and in which to stay ; for it is added, 
" And when he was at the place, he said," &c. John informs us 
that this " place " was a garden — an enclosure planted with 
trees (k^os, xviii. 1) ; and that it was "over the brook Cedron," 
that is, on the other side from Jerusalem. Matthew and Mark 
give us the name of the " garden " — " Then cometh Jesus with 
them unto a place called Gethsemane," or " oil-press," doubt- 
less because there was an oil-press in the garden, as there usually 
is connected with every olive-yard (Matt. xxvi. 36; Mark xiv. 32). 

Here, then, we have a most interesting trait in the character 

of Jesus, and we have a spot indicated which is more closely 

connected than any other with his private life. After wearing 
(10) n 



153 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



and toilsome labours during the day in the crowded streets of 
the city — after jarring controversies with scribes and Pharisees 
in the Temple courts, he was accustomed to retire in the even- 
ing with his disciples to this garden, and there spend the night 
in peaceful seclusion. And when fanaticism broke forth into 
open persecution — when an infatuated populace cried for his 
blood, and took up stones to stone him, passing through them 
he found an asylum in the deep shade of Gethsemane (John 
viii. 59 ; Luke x. 25-38). Here, too, he had his Oratory, where 
he was wont to pray. On the night of his betrayal, when he 
had led his disciples to " the garden," he said, — " Sit ye here, 
while I go and prayjwwfc?'" (Matt. xxvi. 36), no doubt indi- 
cating some well-known spot away in the deeper shade of the 
olive trees. There is a strong probability too that this was that 
" certain place " mentioned by Luke where Jesus was praying 
when, at the request of his disciples, he taught them the Lord's 
Prayer (Luke xi. 1 ; x. 38-42). It may have been to this very 
place that Nicodemus came by night, having .heard the secret 
of the Saviour's retreat from some of his followers, or perhaps 
having been himself the owner of the garden. 
. That the Son of Man should have his house in a garden — 
that he should be forced to rest, and sleep, and pray on the 
hill-side, under the open canopy of heaven — must seem to many 
passing strange. It looks like a practical commentary on his 
own touching declaration : " The foxes have holes, and the birds 
of the air have nests, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay 
his head.'* May we not ask, however, " If there was no house 
in Jerusalem that would shelter, no friend there that would 
welcome him, was not Bethany near] Was there not a home 
for him in the house of Martha? Why did he not go to Bethany?" 
Those at all familiar with Eastern life will easily understand the 
whole matter. Nearly all the inhabitants of Palestine sleep 
during a great part of the year in the open air, on the house- 
top, or in garden or field. It is common for families to leave 



CHRIST S HOME ON OLIVET. 



159 



their houses in town or village early in spring, and bivouac 
under a tree or rude arbour the whole summer. Travellers, 
when about to spend a few days or weeks at a town or village, 
generally rent a garden and live there. I have often done so 
myself, and have slept with the earth for a bed, and the starry 
sky for a canopy. There is no rain, and no dew; the ground 
is dry, and the fresh balmy air of the country is far preferable 
to the close, stifling atmosphere of an eastern city. Another 
thing must not be overlooked. As society is constituted in the 
East, one can have no privacy in a strange house, night or day. 
The one apartment in which all the males sit, sleep, and eat, is 
open to all comers. If we would meditate or pray, we must 
go, like Peter, to the house-top (Acts x. 9), or, like Isaac, to 
the field (Gen. xxiv. 63), or, like Jesus, to a mountain (Luke 
vi. 12). Our Lord desired a place where he could be alone 
with his disciples, and alone with his Father; and he chose the 
garden on Olivet. Most probably it belonged to some secret 
friend who placed it at his disposal. Be this as it may, his 
followers knew it well, " and Judas also, which betrayed him, 
knew the place, for Jesus oft-times resorted thither with his 
disciples" (John xviii. 2). 

Often and often I have walked from Jerusalem to the Mount 
of Olives — by day, in the full blaze of sunlight; at even, when 
the shadows were deep in the Kidron; in the still night, when the 
moon shed her pale silvery beams on grey crag and dusky tree. 
Now I wandered round the southern angle of the Haram, past 
those great old stones, and along the brow of the glen ; now I 
went straight down from the city-gate ; now round by the north 
wall. All the paths to Olivet converge at the ancient road 
which winds down the steep bank to the bridge. I always felt, 
as I passed down that road and crossed the Kidron, that I was 
treading in the very foosteps of my Lord, and on that very path 
along which he so often retired, weary and sorrowful, to his 
retreat in Gethsemane. 



1 6 o JER USALEM AND ITS ENVIR ONS. 

After crossing the bridge, the ancient road ascends the lower 
slope of Olivet for about a hundred yards, and then branches. 
One branch runs right up to the summit, the other turns to the 
right. In the angle between them is a little garden, enclosed 
by a high modern wall. This is the traditional^ and it may be 
the real Gethsemane. At any rate, Gethsemane could not 
have been far distant. The garden belongs to the Latin con- 
vent. Entering we find trim flower-beds, and gravel walks. 
These have no attractions for us; neither has " the bank on 
which the apostles slept," nor " the grotto of the Agony," nor 
any other of the apocryphal " holy places," which ecclesiastical 
superstition has placed there ; but eight venerable olive trees 
rivet our attention. They are real patriarchs; their huge trunks 
are rent, hollowed, gnarled, and propped up, and their boughs 
hoary with age. They seem old enough, and probably are old 
enough, to have formed an arbour for Jesus. How often have 
I sat on a rocky bank in that garden ! How often, beneath the 
grateful shade of the old olives, have I read and re-read the 
story of the betrayal ! How often have I fondly lingered there 
far on into the still night, when the city above was hushed in 
sleep, and no sound was heard save the sighing of the breeze 
among the olive branches, thinking and thinking on those 
miracles of love and power that He performed there ! 

" Who can thy deep wonders see, 
Wonderful Gethsemane ! 
There my God bare all my guilt ; 

This through grace can be believed ; 
But the horrors which he felt 

Are too vast to be conceived. 
None can penetrate through thee, 
Doleful, dark Gethsemane ! " 



THE DESTRUCTION OF THE TEMPLE FORETOLD. 

Our Lord had paid his last visit to the temple. When pass- 
ing out, solemn and sad, the disciples said, " Master, see what 



CHRIST'S PREDICTIONS FULFILLFD. 161 

manner of stones and what buildings are here!" They had 
probably heard some word fall from his lips which excited their 
alarm, and they thus tried to awaken in his mind a deeper 
interest in their venerated temple. It was in vain. " Seest 
thou these great buildings? there shall not be left one stone 
upon another that shall not be thrown down" (Mark xiii. i, 2). 
He went on, crossed the Kidron, and followed the road to 
Bethany, apparently the lower road, for he came to a com- 
manding point " over against the temple," and there sat down. 
The temple and its courts were in full view; the eye could see 
distinctly across the ravine, the gorgeous details of its archi- 
tecture, and the colossal magnitude of its masonry; and there, 
with his eye upon them, and his disciples' attention directed 
to them, he foretold the destruction of both temple and city, 
summing up with the terrible words, " This generation shall not 
pass away till all be fulfilled. Heaven and earth shall pass 
away; but my words shall not pass away" (Luke xxi. 33). 

I walked up that same path. I sat down on a projecting 
rock " over against the temple." It may not have been the 
very spot on which Christ sat, but it could not have been far 
from it. I looked, and I saw that the prophecy was fulfilled to 
the letter — not a single stone of the temple remains. I read 
the whole of the prophecies and parables uttered at that place 
by the Saviour, and I read them with a far deeper interest, and 
a far more intense feeling of reality than I had ever experienced 
before (Matt, xxiv., xxvi.) 

david's flight from absalom. 

Crossing the Kidron by the bridge — a bridge which, I may 
state, is only intended to raise the road, as there is neither 
" brook" nor brook-bed in this part of the Kidron — leaving the 
picturesque Church of the Virgin down in its sunken area on 
the left, and Gethsemane on the right, I climbed the ancient 
road to the top of Olivet. Here and there the rock has been 



r62 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



cut away, and rude steps formed; more frequently deep tracks 
or channels, worn by the feet of countless wayfarers during 
long, long centuries, are seen on the rocky ledges. I was now 
on the footsteps of David, who, when fleeing from Absalom, 
" went over the brook Kidron toward the way of the wilderness. '. . 
and went up by the ascent of Olivet, and wept as he went up, 
and had his head covered; and he went barefoot; and all the 
people that was with him covered every man his head, and they 
went up weeping as they went" (2 Sam. xv. 23, 30). It was a 
sad and touching spectacle; and dearly did the king then pay 
for those sins which had led to the formation of an ill-assorted 
and badly-trained family. 

On reaching the top of the mount, David turned to take a 
last fond look at his home, now the seat of unnatural re- 
bellion; and there, in sight of the Holy City and Ark, he 
paused to worship God. In his hour of suffering he carried 
into practice the noble sentiments of the 42 d Psalm, " I wil] 
say unto God my rock, Why hast thou forgotten me? Why go 
I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy? Why art 
thou cast down, O my soul ? and why art thou disquieted within 
me ? Hope thou in God ; for I shall yet praise him, who is 
the health of my countenance, and my God." From the brow 
of Olivet the eye looks down upon Jerusalem as upon an em- 
bossed picture. The ravines that surround it, the walls that 
encompass it, the streets and lanes that zigzag through it, are 
all visible. From the same spot another and a widely-different 
view opens to the eastward. The mount stands on the edge 
of the wilderness. With the crowded city behind, and the bare 
parched desert in front, one would almost think Olivet divided 
the living from the dead. The " wilderness of Judea" begins 
at our feet ; breaking down in a succession of white naked hills, 
and jagged limestone cliffs, and naked gray ravines, until at 
length the hills drop suddenly and precipitously into the deep 
valley of the Jordan, beyond which rises, as suddenly and 



SCENE OF THE ASCENSION. 163 

precipitously, an unbroken mountain range extending north 
and south along the horizon, far as the eye can see. That 
range is the Peraea, the " place beyond," of the New Testa- 
ment, and the Moab and Gilead of the Old. The "way" along 
which David fled was appropriately named the " way of the 
wilderness." That "wilderness" was the scene of the Tempta- 
tion, and the "way" through it was the scene of the "Parable 
of the Good Samaritan," which was related by our Lord either 
upon this very summit, or on the path between it and Bethany. 
How doubly striking must that beautiful illustration of charity 
have been when Jesus would point to that dreary, dangerous 
desert road, while repeating the words, " A certain man went 
down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves! " (Luke 
x. 25-37.) 

THE ASCENSION. 

" And he led them out as far as to Bethany, and he lifted up 
his hands and blessed them; and it came to pass, while he 
blessed them, he was parted from them, and carried up into 
heaven" (Luke xxiv. 50). When on Olivet I was deeply im- 
pressed with the belief — I can scarcely tell why, but so it was 
— that Jesus on this occasion took the upper road, over the 
top of the mount. It was more private ; and the moment the 
summit was passed, he and his disciples were in absolute 
solitude. Jerusalem is shut out by the hill; and Bethany is 
hidden until we reach a rocky spur overhanging the little nook 
in which it lies embosomed. " He led them out as far as to 
Bethany." This can scarcely mean " into Bethany." The 
Ascension appears to have been witnessed only by the disciples ; 
and it could not, therefore, have taken place in the village ; but 
it must have been close to it. I saw one spot, " as far" from 
Jerusalem as Bethany, very near the village, and yet concealed 
from view, and I thought that it, in all probability, was the 
very place on which the Saviour's feet last rested. As I sat 
there and . read the simple, graphic story of the ascension (Luke 



1 64 JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS 

xxiv. 50; Acts i. 9-12), I was impressed as I never had been 
before with the intense, the almost startling vividness of the 
sacred narrative. The Saviour gradually ascending while the 
words of blessing still flowed from his lips — the wondering, awe- 
stricken disciples following him upward and upward with eager 
gaze — the cloud slowly folding round him, and at length hiding 
him in its bright bosom — the white-robed angels bursting sud- 
denly from it and standing in the midst of the disciples ! What 
a glorious picture! What joy it brings to the Christian's 
heart! Our Substitute, our Saviour, our Brother, our Fore- 
runner, thus ascending on the wings of victory to the heaven 
he had won for us! While I read and meditated, it seemed as 
if there was wafted to my ear in voice of sweetest melody the 
cheering words of the angelic promise, " This same Jesus which 
is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner 
as ye have seen him to go into heaven" (Acts i. 11). " Even 
so come, Lord Jesus, come quickly." 

The top of the Mount of Olives is the traditional scene of 
the ascension, and a church was built over it in the fourth 
century by Helena the mother of Constantine. That building 
has long since disappeared, and the reputed site is now occupied 
by an humble chapel which stands in the court of a mosque ! 
Crowds of pilgrims visit it, and have done so for many centuries. 
The guardian shows them the print of one of the Saviour's feet 
in the rock, and tells them that both footprints were there until 
the Mohammedans stole one of them. Bishop Ellicott and others 
think the traditional may be the true site of the ascension; but 
I cannot see how the words "as far as to Bethany" can be 
made to signify " to the top of Olivet," which is not half way 
to that village. 

BETHANY. 

What particularly struck me in all my visits to Bethany was 
its solitude. It looks as if it were shut out from the whole 
world. No town, village, or human habitation is visible from 



BETHANY. 



165 



it. The wilderness appears in front through an opening in the 
rocky glen; and the steep side of Olivet rises close behind. 
When Jesus retired from Jerusalem to Bethany, no sound of 
the busy world followed him — no noisy crowd broke in upon 
his meditation. In the quiet home of Martha, or in some 
lonely recess of Bethany's secluded dell, he rested, and taught, 
and prayed. How delighted I was one evening, when seated 
on a rocky bank beside the village, reading the story of Lazarus, 
to hear a passing villager say, " There is the tomb of Lazarus, 
and yonder is the house of Martha ! " They may not be, most 
probably they are not, the real places; but this is Bethany, and 
the miracle wrought there still dwells in the memory of its in- 
habitants. And when the unvarying features of nature are there 
too — the cliffs, the secluded glen, the Mount of Olives — few 
will think of traditional " holy places." From the place where 
I sat I saw — as Martha and Mary had seen from their house-top 
■ — those blue mountains beyond Jordan, where Jesus was abid- 
ing when they sent unto him, saying, " Lord, behold, he whom 
thou lovest is sick" (John x. 40; xi. 3). I also saw the road 
"from Jerusalem to Jericho" winding past the village, and 
away down the rocky declivities into the wilderness. By that 
road Jesus was expected ; and one can fancy with what earnest, 
longing eyes the sisters looked along it — ever and anon return- 
ing and looking, from the first dawn till waning twilight. And 
when at last he did come, and Martha heard the news, one can 
picture the touching scene, how she ran along that road, and 
with streaming eyes and quivering lips uttered the half-re- 
proachful and still half-hopeful cry, " Lord, if thou hadst been 
nere my brother had not died." 

Bethany is now, and apparently always was, a small, poor, 
mountain hamlet; with nothing to charm except its seclusion, 
and nothing to interest save its associations. It is a remarkable 
fact that Christ's great miracle has been to it as a new baptism, 
conferring a new name. It is now called El-Azariyeh, which 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



maybe interpreted, "The Place of Lazarus." The "palms" 
are all gone which gave it its old name £eth-a?iy, " House of 
Dates;" but the crags around, and the terraced slopes above it 
are dotted yet with venerable fig-trees, as if to show that its 
sister village, Beth-phage, "House of Figs," is not forgotten, 
though its site is lost. The houses of Bethany are of stone, 
massive and rude in style. Over them, on the top of a scarped 
rock, rises a fragment of heavy ancient masonry — perhaps a 
portion of an old watch-tower. The reputed tomb of Lazarus 
is a deep, narrow vault, apparently of no great antiquity. 

Christ's triumphal entry into Jerusalem. 

Our Lord reached Bethany from Jericho on the evening of 
Friday after sunset, or the morning of Saturday, the Jewish 
Sabbath (John xii. i); and on the next day (ver. 12), he made 
his triumphal entry into Jerusalem. It was the Passover week. 
The holy city was crowded, and the fame of Jesus, and of the 
miracle he had performed on Lazarus, brought multitudes to 
Bethany. He knew that the time was now come for the com- 
plete fulfilment of prophecy, and that Zion's King should that 
^day in triumph enter Zion's gates (Zech. ix. 9). Knowing what 
was before him, it was natural he should take the easy caravan 
road round the southern shoulder of Olivet, and not the steep 
and difficult one over the summit. When setting forth there 
was nothing either in dress or mien to distinguish Jesus from 
others. Prophecy declared that he should be " meek and 
lowly," and he was "meek and lowly." The little band of 
humble disciples gathered closely round his person, while the 
multitude thronged the path, and lined the rocky banks above 
it. Soon after leaving Bethany the road meets a ravine which 
furrows deeply the side of Olivet. From this point the top of 
Zion is seen; but the rest of the city is hid by an intervening 
ridge; and just opposite this point, ori the other side of the 
ravine, I saw the site and remains of an ancient village. The 



THE TRIUMMAL ENTRY. 



167 



road turns sharply to the right, descends obliquely to the 
bottom of the ravine, and then turning to the left, ascends and 
reaches the top of the opposite ridge a short distance above 
the site of the village. Is not this the place where Jesus said 
to the two disciples, " Go into the village over against you ?"» 
These active footmen could cross the ravine direct in a minute 
or two, while the great procession would take some time in 
slowly winding round the road. The people of the village saw 
the procession; they knew its cause, for the fame of Jesus' 
miracles had reached them; they were thus prepared to give 
the ass to the disciples the moment they heard, " The Lord had 
need of him." And the disciples taking the ass, led it up to 
the road, and met Jesus. A temporary saddle was soon made 
of the loose outer robes of the people, as I have myself seen 
done a hundred times in Palestine. Some of the people now 
broke down branches from the palm trees, and waving them in 
triumph, threw them in the path. Others, still more enthusi- 
astic, spread their garments in the way, as I have seen Moham- 
medan devotees do before a distinguished saint. Zechariah's 
prophecy was now fulfilled to the letter: "Rejoice greatly, O 
daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem; behold, thy 
King cometh unto thee; He is just, and having salvation; lowly, 
and riding upon an ass" (ix. 9). 

The procession advances. The crown of the ridge is gained ; 
and Jerusalem in its full extent and beauty bursts upon the view. 
Moriah, crowned by the temple, rises proudly from the deep, dark 
Kidron; Zion rises higher yet away beyond it, showing to 
advantage the palace of Herod, and the lofty battlements of Hip- 
picus and its sister towers ; then the great city, and its gardens 
stretching far beyond. One look on their beloved and beauteous 
city, and one on their wonder-working King (Luke xix. 37), 
the multitudes raised their voices in a long shout of triumph, 
" Hosanna to the Son of David; blessed is he that cometh in the 
name of the Lord; hosanna in the highest" (Matt. xxi. 9). 



i68 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



But how was Jesus affected by these joyous acclamations, 
and by that noble view? His omniscient eye looked beneath 
the exuberance of enthusiasm — in upon the evil heart of un- 
belief. It looked, too, from the gorgeous buildings of the city, 
"away down the dark vista of time, and saw looming in the 
future, ruin, desolation, and woe. Therefore when he came 
near — when he came down, probably, to that point where the 
temple was directly facing him, and all the richness of its 
architecture could be seen, — " He wept over it:" — 

" Why doth my Saviour weep 

At sight of Sion's bowers? 
Shows it not fair from yonder steep, 

Her gorgeous crown of towers ? 
Mark well his holy pains, 

'Tis not in pride or scorn, 
That Israel's King with sorrow stain . A i 

His own triumphal morn. 

' If thou hadst known, e'en thou, 

At least in this thy day, 
The message of thy peace ! but now 

'Tis passed for aye away : ^ 
Now foes shall trench thee round, 

And lay thee even with earth, 
And dash thy children to the ground. 

Thy glory and thy mirth.' 

And doth the Saviour weep 

Over his people's sin ? 
Because we will not let him keep 

The souls he died to win ? 
Ye hearts that love the Lord, 

If at this sight ye burn, 
See that in thought, in deed, in word, 

Ye hate what made him mourn." 

The scene here closes, so far as Olivet is concerned. The 
mount is studded all over with traditional " holy places," 
but the only ones which tend to illustrate the sacred narrative, 
or throw light on the journeys, parables, prophecies, or miracles 
of our Lord, are those to which I have conducted my reader. 




IV. 

C|« §attU-fiefirs of Exhort, %%> uvfo ifufmtasjy, 

" I wandered on to many a shrine, 
By faith or history made divine ; 
And then I visited each place 

Where valour's deeds had left a trace K 

HE stars were still trembling in the sky when, from the 
top of our little tower, we heard the impatient horses 
champing their bits beneath. We were soon in the 
saddle, and dashing down the rocky side of Olivet. It was a 
dewy morn in the end of September, and the air was fresh and 
balmy. Gethsemane and the Kidron were in deep gloom; but 
the first fleecy clouds of autumn, high overhead, had already 
caught the ruddy rays of the coming sun. A death-like silence 
reigned in the Holy City as we rode past. Our path led through 
the olive-groves, and then across the great northern road, near 
those mounds of ashes which have of late created so much 
controversy. At a smart pace we traversed the rugged table- 
land at the head of the Kidron, noticing the tombs in the rocks 
on each side. The plain but chaste facade of the Sepulchre of 
the Judges drew our attention. Within its dark vaults are some 
seventy or eighty recesses for bodies ; and here, it is said, the 
members of the Jewish Sanhedrim were laid in glory, " every 
one in his own house." 

We had now reached the western brow of the table-land ; and 
the deep glen of Wady Beit Hanina was at our feet, its banks 
formed into natural terraces by the horizontal strata. The 



170 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



whole scene was painfully desolate. Verdure there was none, 
— but grey crowns and grey cliffs protruding everywhere from 
the grey soil. In places the declivities seemed as if covered 
with white flags. The few old olives scattered singly or in 
groups along the glen can scarcely be said to relieve the 
uniform bareness; for they, too, look dusky and sapless; and 
the stunted trees and shrubs, clinging to the mountain-sides 
above, only make the features of nature more forbidding. 
There was a total want of colour and variety of outline in the 
landscape. The dull uniform grey, and the long bare declivities 
and rounded summits had nothing attractive in them. Most 
of the higher peaks are singularly formed. They rise in con- 
centric rings of terraces, like steps of stairs, from bottom to top. 

MIZPEH. 

Away beyond the Wady towered Neby Samwil, the highest 
and most conspicuous peak in southern Palestine. Its conical 
top, crowned with village, mosque, and minaret, forms the 
only striking feature in the northern view from Jerusalem. To 
it we were now bound as the first point of interest in our tour. 
Diving down into the glen; and then clambering up through 
terraced vineyards, over rude fences, along rocky brakes, — 
startling flocks of partridges at almost every step — we gained 
the summit, and committed our panting steeds to the care of a 
group of wild-looking boys who had been watching our approach 
from the walls of a ruined tower. The village sheikh was there 
to welcome us, conspicuous in his scarlet robe, which to this 
day is the badge of royalty or power among the inhabitants of 
Palestine (Lam. iv. 5; Dan. v. 7; Matt, xxvii. 28). Several of 
his elders stood round him, whose outer garments in the 
brilliancy and variety of hue of their embrodiery reminded me 
of Joseph's coat of many colours. 

Taking the worthy chief into^ our service we requested him 
to lead the way to the top of the minaret. What a noble view 



VIEW FROM NEBY SAMWIL. 



171 



was there ! I had seen none to be compared with it among the 
mountains of Palestine. It is far more extensive than that 
from Olivet, or Gerizim, or any of the peaks around Hebron. 
Away on the western horizon slept the "Great Sea;" and from 
this and other commanding heights in Palestine I saw how 
natural it was for the ancient Israelite to make the word " sea " 
(yam), a synonym for "west" (Gen. xxviii. 14; Ps. cvii. 3). 
Along its glittering shore lay the plains of Sharon and Philistia, 
extending to the horizon on the north and south — the orange 
groves of Joppa looking like a shadow, and the towns of Ramleh, 
Lydda, and Ekron like points of brilliant light on the smooth 
grey surface. Nearer were the declivities of Judah's mountains, 
furrowed deep with many a ravine, and bristling with many a 
castle-like village and ruin. The broad summit of the ridge 
was a forest of hill-tops, — separated, here by a little upland 
plain, there by a deep, dark, winding glen. On the east the 
Jordan and its valley were hid behind the hills of Benjamin, 
but the chain of Moab and Gilead rose over them, — a vast wall 
of azure, built up against a golden sky, and streaked from base 
to summit with rich purple shadows. The mountain strongholds 
of Judah and Benjamin, renowned of yore in sacred story, or 
celebrated in sacred song, were grouped around me; — Gibeon 
on its "hill;" Beth-horon guarding the western pass (2 Chron. 
viii. 4) ; Beeroth and Bethel, and away beyond them the " rock 
Rimmon," where the six hundred men, the shattered remnant 
of a guilty tribe, found an asylum (Judges xx. 45-48) ; Ramah 
of Benjamin crowning its "height" (1 Kings xv. 17); Gibeah 
of Saul, now a bare desolate "mount" (1 Sam. x. 26); Kirjath- 
jearim, perched on the side of " the hill," where the ark of the 
Lord remained so long in the house of Abinadab (1 Sam. vii. 1, 2); 
Bethlehem, overlooking the wilderness, where its shepherd 
warriors were trained to battle; and in the centre of the group, 
begirt with mountains (Ps. cxxv. 2), Jerusalem herself sat in 
queenly state. That was a panorama which, once seen, could 



172 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



never be forgotten. Time cannot deface the picture -the 
mind must treasure up the stirring, hallowed memories with 
which every feature is associated. Probably this peak, from 
which the western pilgrim gets his earliest glimpse of the Holy 
City, was in Tasso's mind, when he thus described the effect 
of " that first far view " upon the Crusaders, — 

" Lo, towered Jerusalem salutes the eyes ! 
A thousand pointing fingers tell the tale ; 
' Jerusalem ! ' a thousand voices cry, 
' All hail, Jerusalem ! ' hill, down, and dale 
Catch the glad sounds, and shout, ' Jerusalem, all hail ! ' " 

The mountain gets its modern name from an early tradition, 
which makes this village the site of Ramathaim-zophim, — the 
nouse and burial-place of the " prophet Samuel." Topography 
is against the tradition, but it seems to identify this spot as the 
Mizpeh, — "watch-tower" of Benjamin (Josh, xviii. 26); the 
gathering-place of Israel, where the tribes assembled and bound 
themselves by an oath never to return to their homes tinVthey 
had avenged on the inhabitants of Gibeah the rights of hospi- 
tality outraged by an abominable crime (Judges xx.); where 
Saul was chosen monarch, and where, for the first time, the 
hills of Palestine echoed back the loyal cry, "God save the 
king" (1 Sam. x. 17). It appears too that this is that very 
"high place of Gibeon" where Solomon offered a thousand 
burnt-offerings, and where the Lord, in answer to his prayer, 
gave him the wisdom which made him a world's proverb 
(1 Kings hi. 4-12). Something of sanctity has ever since 
clung to the spot. The Crusaders built a church on it; and 
now, within its shattered walls, the Mohammedans have a 
prayer-niche, and perform their devotions beside the traditional 
tomb of the great Jewish prophet. 

GIBEON AND ITS BATTLE-FIELDS 

At the northern base of Neby-Samwil, in a little upland plain, 
stands a low circular hill with steep sides and flat top. The 



GIB EON. 



173 



sides are covered with terraced vineyards, and on the top is 
the village of El-Jib, the representative of the ancient capital of 
the wily " Gibeonites." The name describes the site, — Gibeon 
signifies "belonging to a hill." We were soon in the midst of 
the village examining the ruins of its old castle, and the mass- 
ive fragments of ancient masonry which still form the substruc- 
tions of its houses. But the fountain — there is only one — was 
the main point of attraction. It bursts from a rent cliff at the 
eastern base, and empties its tiny stream into a large reservoir 
a few yards off in the plain. This is that " Pool of Gibeon " 
where Abner and Joab, the rival warriors of Israel met, and 
where David's general gained a crowning victory (2 Sam. 
ii. 12-32). 

But a still more famous battle was fought beneath the walls 
of Gibeon. Its old inhabitants, by a clever trick, had beguiled 
the Israelites into a league (Josh. ix. 3-15). The Canaanites 
combined against them, and five Amorite kings marched their 
forces to punish the traitor Gibeonites (x. 1-6). Messengers 
were sent to Joshua, then encamped at Jericho, praying for 
help. It was readily granted. In the evening Joshua set out; 
all night his active troops climbed the rugged defiles; with the 
first dawn they crossed the rising ground which shuts in the 
little plain on the east, and ere a note of warning could be 
sounded, they charged the besiegers. The attack was sudden, 
and the victory decisive. The banded forces broke and fled 
(x. 7-10). 

Mounting our horses, we turned westward to trace the Hue 
of flight. The Israelites " chased them along the way that goeth 
up to Beth-horon" (ver. 10). A quarter of a mile west of 
Gibeon is a sharp ascent to a low ridge. Up this the Amorites 
fled, hard pressed by their pursuers. From the top of the ridge 
a long and rugged descent leads to Beth-horon, which now appears 
in front crowning a projecting shoulder of the mountain. The 
nature of the ground favoured the fugitives, but " as they fled 



1 7 4 JER USA LEM AND ITS ENVIR ONS. 

from before Israel, and were in the going down to Beth-horo?i ) 
the Lord cast down great stones from heaven upon them" 
(ver. n). Joshua led the van of his troops. He saw that the 
victory was complete, but yet that night must eventually save 
the Amorite army from total destruction, and enable a large 
body of them to escape to their cities through the valley of 
Ajalon, at the foot of the pass down which they were rushing. 
Then, standing on some commanding rock in the sight of the 
whole people (ver. 1 2), in the fulness of faith and in the ardour 
of enthusiasm, Joshua gave utterance to that wondrous prayer- 
prophecy — glancing back towards Gibeon and forward upon 
Ajalon — " Sun, stand thou still upo?i Gibeon; and thou, moon, in 
the valley of Ajalo?i. And the sun stood still, and the moon 
stayed until the people had avenged themselves upon their 
enemies" (ver. 12, 13). 

Beth-horon itself, — " Beth-horon the upper," now called Beit 
Ur el-Foka, an Arabic translation of the Hebrew name, — has 
little to interest us besides its military associations as a strong 
outpost of Judea, guarding the principal pass from the western 
plain to Jerusalem (1 Mac. iii. 13-24). As I sat on the top of 
its conical hill, beside its shattered walls, I saw the " nether 
Beth-horon" (Josh. xvi. 3) away below at the bottom of the 
pass ; and further south, on the side of its valley, the little 
village of Ajalon. The view over the broad expanse of Sharon 
and Philistia to the sea was glorious. 

BEEROTH AND BETHEL. 

We now turned our faces eastward again, and rode across 
wild and bleak hills, dotted here and there with a vineyard or 
an olive-grove, and in two hours reached Bireh, the ancient 
Beeroth, one of the four cities of the Gibeonites (Josh. ix. 17). 
The only object of interest there is an old Gothic church, built 
by the Knights Templars, who held Beeroth during the reign of 
the Latin kings. I did not linger, but galloped to Bethel, 



BETHEL AND A I. 



J 75 



two miles distant, where I found my tent pitched beside the 
little fountain. 

During the still evening, when the shadows were deepening 
in the glens, and the last rays of the declining sun gilding the 
top of rock and cliff, I explored the site of this the most ancient 
of Israel's holy places. I looked all round in the hope of 
identifying the spot where Jacob slept, and which he consecrated 
and called the "House of God." I explored the rock sepulchres, 
too, which dot the sides of "the mount" (2 Kings xxiii. 16), 
thinking that one or other of them might be that of " the man 
of God from Judah," whose bones Josiah respected (ver. 
17, 18). Clambering to the top of a shattered tower which 
crowns the hill of Bethel, I looked long, and in sadness, over 
that dreary field of ruin, only inhabited by a few shepherds ; 
and I saw how terribly time had fulfilled the city's prophetic 
doom : " Bethel shall come to nought" (Amos v. 5), 

AI 

In the early morning, crossing a rocky glen, I ascended the 
mountain to the spot where Abraham pitched his tent and built 
his altar, " having Bethel on the west, and Hai (Ai) on the east " 
(Gen. xii. 8). Here I found a little plateau, stony but fertile, 
on the very crest of the hill ; and on reaching it the valley of 
the Jordan, and the glittering waters of the Dead Sea suddenly 
burst upon my view, lying deep, deep down at the foot of a 
dreary wilderness. On this spot Abraham and Lot had that 
memorable interview after their herdsmen had disputed, and 
" they found that the land was not able to bear them, that they 
might dwell together, for their substance was great " (Gen. xiii. 
3-7). There and then they resolved to separate; and " Lot 
lifted up his eyes, and beheld all the plain of Jordan that it was 
well watered" (ver. 10), and he chose that rich region as his 
abode. How wonderfully graphic did the whole narrative appear 
to me as I read it on that mountain-top. 



i 7 6 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



Bethel was behind me on the west ; but where was Ai — long 
lost Ai ? On this and on two other occasions I visited the 
district to search for and verify its site. I believe I was suc- 
cessful. Jutting out eastward from the plateau on which I stood 
is a lower ridge, having deep glens on all sides, except where it 
joins the mountain. Over its whole summit I found traces of 
very ancient ruins, with cisterns and caves such as exist on the 
sites of all mountain cities in Palestine. At the eastern base 
are large quarries, and many rock-hewn tombs. I had no doubt 
then, and I have none now, that here stood Ai, " on the east " 
of Abraham's camping ground and altar. 

The capture of Ai forms one of the romantic episodes in 
Jewish history. The first assault was unsuccessful, and the little 
army was driven back in confusion (Josh. vii. 4, 5). The second 
was more skilfully planned, and had the sanction of the God of 
battles. North-west of Ai, between it and Bethel, is a little 
rocky glen ; and in this, during the night, five thousand chosen 
Israelites were placed in ambush (Josh. viii. 9, 12). Joshua 
and the main body took up a position on the commanding ridge 
north of the city, separated from it by a deep valley (ver. 11). 
In the morning, before it was yet light, he advanced into the 
valley, as if to attack the fortifications in front (ver. 13). The 
first dawn revealed him to the watchful foe, who immediately, 
leaving Ai in force, charged impetuously down the hill (ver. 14). 
The Israelites gave way "as if they were beaten, and fled by 
the way of the wilderness," — down the wild mountain defiles 
towards Jericho (ver. 15). It was a feint, and it succeeded. 
The whole population of the city rushed out in pursuit (ver. 16). 
Just then, in obedience to the command of God, and, doubtless, 
in accordance with a preconcerted signal, Joshua standing on 
some prominent rock or cliff, " stretched out the spear that he 
had in his hand toward the city. And the ambush arose quickly 
out of their place, and they ran, and they entered the city, and 
hasted, and set the city on fire. And when the men of Ai 



BATTLE OF MICHMASH. 



177 



fooked behind them, they saw, and, behold, the smoke of the 
city ascended up to heaven, and they had no power to flee 
this way or that way" (ver. 19, 20). They were completely 
paralyzed. All were put to the sword, and Ai was razed to the 
ground. 

Some centuries later Ai appears to -have been rebuilt ; but it 
is now, and has been for a thousand years, a desolate ruin. 

MICHMASH. 

Much pleased with the result of my visit to the site of Ai, I 
rode down the rocky glen through which the Israelites fled, and 
then over bare undulating table-land to Michmash, one of the 
ancient strongholds of Benjamin. My chief object now was to 
inspect the scene of Jonathan's singular and successful adven- 
ture. The village stands near the summit of a ridge which 
descends in rugged banks and broken cliffs to a deep valley. 
On the south side of the valley is a corresponding ridge, crowned 
by the buildings and ruins of the ancient Geba — about a mile 
distant, and in full view from Michmash. Half a mile further 
down eastward the valley contracts into a ravine, with high 
naked cliffs on each side ; and above the cliff toward Michmash 
are a few acres of table-land. Riding down to this spot, and 
examining the features of the glen, the cliffs, and the opposite 
ridges, I felt convinced that here was the scene of Jonathan's 
exploit. 

The Israelites under Saul were in Geba, and the Philistine 
army held Michmash (1 Sam. xiii. 14). The Philistines, re- 
solving to force the pass, left the town and advanced to the 
edge of the ravine (ver 23). The Israelites, few in number 
and dispirited by long oppression (ver. 19-22), retreated to 
Migron, near Gibeah of Saul (xiv. 2). Jonathan, seeing the 
harassed state of his country* and the despair of his father's 
troops, resolved to make a bold attempt to surprise the enemy's 
camp. The cause of his sudden resolve and his hope of sue- 



i 7 8 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



cess he explained to his armour-bearer : — " It may be that the 
Lord will work for us, for there is no restraint to the Lord to 
save by many or by few" (ver. 6). " Do all that is in thine 
heart," was the reply of his devoted follower; " I am with thee 
according to thy heart" (ver. 7). The nature of the ground 
favoured the enterprise. At the point where they had to cross 
the ravine, " there was a sharp cliff on the one side, and a sharp 
cliff on the other" (ver. 4). Stealthily and cautiously they 
descended the southern cliff, screened from view by projecting 
rocks. They then climbed the north bank to a place where, 
by stepping out on some projecting ledge, they would be in 
view of the Philistines, and yet sufficiently distant to escape if 
requisite. Advancing from behind a crag they showed them- 
selves to the enemy, who naturally said to each other, on seeing 
them so close to the camp, " Behold the Hebrews come forth 
out of the holes where they had hid themselves." " Come up 
to us," cried the Philistines. The desired omen was thus given 
(compare verses 10, 12). "Upon their hands and upon their 
feet" these brave men scaled the rocks, and rushed upon the foe. 
A sudden panic seized the whole host. The Lord fought for 
Israel. The strange and unexpected attack, and the simul- 
taneous shock of an earthquake, created such terror and con- 
fusion, that the Philistines madly fought with each other 
(ver. 15). From the heights of Geba Saul's watchmen saw the 
Philistine army melting away; and Saul's own ear caught the 
din of battle (ver. 16, 19). Collecting his men he crossed the 
pass and joined in the slaughter. Swiftly the tidings sped 
over hill and dale — through city and village — " The Philistines 
flee;" and swiftly the men of Israel rush from cave, and rock, 
and stronghold, and join in pursuit (ver. 21, 22). The battle 
of Michmash was the first of those fierce conflicts carried on at 
intervals through the long reigns of Saul and David, and which 
eventually resulted in the final expulsion of the Philistines from 
the mountains of IsraeL 



ADVENTURE AT MICHMASH. 



179 



The modern inhabitants of Michmash seem to inherit some- 
thing of the fierce and predatory spirit of the Philistines. They 
dogged me wherever I went, muttering threats and curses, at 
first asking, but in the end demanding bakhshish. I took no 
notice of them further than was absolutely necessary. When 
at length, having finished my survey of the battle-field, and a 
sketch of the " pass," I mounted my horse to go to Geba, they 
drew up before me in formidable array, and swore by " the life 
of the prophet" I should not move. I insisted, however, in 
breaking through their ranks ; and fortunately for me their 
valour did not go beyond presenting a few old muskets at my 
head, and a noisy brandishing of swords and daggers. The 
goat track by which I had to descend the glen bank was, per- 
haps, quite as dangerous to life and limb as the lawless vaga- 
bonds of Michmash. I have traversed many bad roads in my 
Syrian wanderings ; I have ridden my Arab horse to the very 
highest peaks of Hermon and Lebanon ; but the pass of Mich- 
mash was the worst I had ever encountered. 

Geba, the ancient city of Canaan, the stronghold of Benja- 
min, is now represented by a few ruinous huts, in which some 
half-dozen families of shepherds find a home. A shattered 
tower, and the foundations of an old church, with heaps of 
hewn stones and rubbish, are the only vestiges of former great- 
ness. Standing there all solitary on its bare rocky ridge, looking 
down, over barren hills and naked ravines, upon the scathed 
valley of the Jordan, it is the very type of desolation. The 
curse has fallen heavily upon " Geba of Benjamin." When 
Elisha came up the defile from Jericho to Bethel, forests clothed 
the surrounding heights; now there is not a tree (2 Kings 
ii. 24). Vineyards then covered the terraced sides of glen and 
hill, from base to summit. They have all disappeared. Cities 
and fortresses, in the days of Israel's power, crowned every 
peak and studded every ridge ; shapeless mounds now mark 
their deserted sites. From the side of Geba no less than nine 



i So JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 

ruined towns and villages were pointed out to me. How won 
derfully have the predictions of Moses been fulfilled ! " I will 
destroy your high places .... I will make your cities waste, and 
bring your sanctuaries into desolation .... And I will bring the 
land into desolation; and your enemies which dwell therein 
shall be astonished at it" (Lev. xxvi. 30-32). 

ANATHOTH. 

Anathoth is barely three miles south of Geba, and yet the 
road is so bad, and the intervening glens so deep and rugged, 
that I was a full hour in reaching it. Were it not for its sacred 
associations, no man would ever dream of visiting Anathoth — 
a poor village of some twenty houses, built among white rocks 
and white ruins, on a bare, grey mountain side. No trees, no 
verdure, no richness, or grandeur, or beauty ; and yet here, in 
this ancient city of priests (Josh. xxi. 18), the prophet Jeremiah 
was born (i. 1). Here he received his first commission to warn 
and threaten a rebellious nation (i. 5-19); and here, amid 
mountain solitudes and rocky dells, he mourned and wept over 
the foreseen calamities of his beloved country. When I looked 
out over that 

" Barren desert, fountainless and dry," 

of which Anathoth commands a prospect wide and wild, his 
words seemed filled with a double power and pathos : " Oh that 
my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I 
might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my 
people ! Oh that I had in the wilderness a lodging place of way- 
faring men, that I might leave my people, and go from themf" 
(Jer. ix. 1, 2.) One can trace, in nearly all the images and 
illustrations with which his writings abound, the influence of 
those wild scenes amid which he passed his boyhood. Moun- 
tains, rocks, wild beasts, shepherds, are again and again intro- 
duced; and when predicting the utter ruin of Israel, he says, 



GIBE AH OF SA UL. 



1S1 



with characteristic allusion to his home,—" The spoilers are 
come upon all high places through the wilderness" (Jer. xii. 12). 
The view from Anathoth is dreary and desolate, but it is singu- 
larly instructive to the thoughtful student of Jeremiah's pro- 
phecies. 

GIBEAH OF SAUL, 

Looking westward from the village, my eye caught the white 
top of a conical hill, rising over an intervening ridge. " What 
is the name of that hill?" I said to an old man at my side. 
" Tuleil el-Ful," he replied. Seven long hours I had already 
been in the saddle, under a cloudless sun, and I had not enjoyed 
even for a moment " the shadow of a great rock" in that " weary 
land :" yet the surpassing, all-absorbing interest of holy sites 
and holy associations made me insensible to fatigue. Tuleil 
el-Ful, I knew, was covered of yore with the buildings of Gibeah, 
the city which, by its crimes, brought such calamities on the 
tribe of Benjamin (Judg. xix.) ; which gave Israel its first king 
(1 Sam. xi. 4) ; and which witnessed the unparalleled maternal 
tenderness and devotion of poor bereaved Rizpah (2 Sam. xxi. 
8-1 1). 

Half an hour's hard ride brought me to its base, and in a few 
minutes more I was on its summit. A rude cairn on the hill- 
top — a few massive foundations now supporting little terraces 
along the sides — some scattered ruins at the western base — these 
alone mark the site of the royal city of Benjamin. Its very name 
has long since gone, unless indeed the Arabic Tuleil (" little 
hill ") be a translation of the Hebrew Gibeah. 

NOB IDENTIFIED. 

Riding towards Jerusalem, another conical tell attracted my 
attention. It is about half a mile from Gibeah. I found on its 
sides and summit traces of a small but very ancient town ; 
cisterns hewn in the rock, large building stones, portions of the 
hill levelled and cut away, and the ruins of a small tower. It 



182 



JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



commands a distinct, though distant view of Mount Zion ; 
Moriah and Olivet being hid by an intervening ridge. I felt 
convinced that this is the site of the long lost Nob; and I here 
saw how graphic was the whole description of the march of the 
Assyrian host upon Jerusalem, as given by Isaiah. I had 
followed the line from Ai; and on the top of this tell I under- 
stood the full meaning of the last sentence. " He shall remain 
at Nob that night, he shall shake his hand against the mount of the 
daughter of Zion, the hill of Jerusalem" (Isa, x. 28-32). 

Between Nob and Gibeah is a deep retired vale, which must 
have been the scene of the affecting interview between David 
and Jonathan, recorded in 1 Samuel xx. David seeing that his 
life was threatened at the court of Saul, went to Nob, got 
Goliath's sword from Ahimelech the high priest, and fled to 
Gath. David's visit sealed the fate of Nob. A base Edomite 
betrayed the innocent priest ; and when no Israelite dared to 
carry out the savage commands of a tyrant king, Doeg proved 
a willing executioner. Ahimelech and his whole family were 
murdered, and " he smote Nob with the edge of the sword, both 
men and women, children, and sucklings, and oxen, and asses, 
and sheep" (1 Sam. xxii). Sitting on the desolate site I read 
the story of that terrible massacre ; and I shuddered as I looked 
around and saw the rocks once stained with the blood of the 
helpless victims. Can we wonder that Ezekiel was commis- 
sioned to pronounce a curse upon Palestine, when he could 
with such truth assign as its c? lse, "for the land is full of bloody 
crimes" (vii. 23). 

Another hour brought me to my home on Olivet, and to the 
end of one of the most interesting and profitable excursions I 
ever made in Palestine. 




THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 




Thussaith the Lord God ; Behold, I will stretch out mine hand upon the Philistines, and 
I will cut off the Cherethims, and destroy the remnant of the sea coast."— Ezek. 
xxv. 16. 

E rode down from Jerusalem on Saturday, hoping to 
spend a quiet Sunday in the Franciscan convent of 
Ramleh. The good fathers received us with even 
more than ordinary hospitality, and quartered us in their choicest 
cells. They supplied our table, too, with the best their larder 
afforded; and as we were all well inured to Eastern life, we 
were able to enjoy the fare. In the early part of Sunday we 
were left alone, and the deep silence of the convent was most 
impressive. At intervals the solemn chant of the Latin service 
in the chapel swept through the cloistered courts and along the 
corridors, now swelling forth in full harmony, now dying away 
in a plaintive wail, and again awaking like an echo. In the 
afternoon an Italian monk, who had been previously acquainted 
with one of my companions, joined our party. He had seen 
much of the world, and was a man of polished manners and 
extensive information. He seemed anxious to promote the 
cause of education in Syria, but spoke despondingly of this 
work, to which, he told us, he had devoted his life. His doubts 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES, 



and fears arose mainly from the difficulties thrown in his way 
by his superiors, and from the limited means at his command. 
After some general conversation, we all sat down to read 
together the various passages of Scripture referring to Philistia 
and its old warlike inhabitants. 

The Philistines, we are told, were an Egyptian tribe, descend- 
ants of Ham, who, at some unknown period before the time of 
Abraham, left their native country and settled on the southern 
coast of Canaan. Singularly enough, though always called, 
even by the Israelites, " strangers," (for such is the meaning of 
Philistines^) they gave to the whole land the name it bears to 
this day — Palestine. Abraham and Isaac lived in peace with 
the Philistine chiefs \ and though their dependants had occasional 
quarrels, yet they fed their flocks on the same pastures and 
watered them at the same wells. But in after ages the Philis- 
tines became the most determined foes of the Israelites. 

Philistia is the garden of Palestine. It is about forty miles 
long from Joppa to Gaza, and about fifteen wide from the Medi- 
terranean to the mountains of Judah. Along the whole sea- 
board are white sandy downs. Within these is the broad un- 
dulating plain, with its deep rich soil, and low mounds at 
intervals, over whose summits the grey ruins of great cities are 
now strewn in the dust. On the east the mountains send out 
their roots far into the plain, carrying with them their rocks, 
and braes, and jungles of dwarf trees and shrubs ; and leaving 
between them picturesque winding vales. Such is Philistia, the 
Shephelah ("low country" or "valley") of the Bible (2 Chron. 
xxvi. 10 ; Deut. i. 7). It is a noble region, and it was defended 
by its old inhabitants with a heroism and devotion which have 
been rarely equalled. The Philistine warriors could dash across 
the unbroken plains in their chariots of iron, and drive all their 
foes before them ; but the moment they attempted to penetrate 
the mountain defiles they were overmatched by the active 
Jewish infantry. The physical character of these neighbouring 



WALK TO LYDDA. 



187 



countries solves the mystery of the long, fierce, and undecided 
struggles of the two nations. 

We were deep in our studies, and were becoming rapidly 
more and more interested in the stories of Samson, the capture 
of the ark, and David and Goliath, when suddenly the silence 
that reigned around us was broken by a straggling fire of 
musketry in the distance. It came nearer. The roll of kettle- 
drums was next heard, at first faintly, but growing each moment 
louder and clearer, till at length the ringing shots and warlike 
music seemed beneath the convent walls. Then there was a 
hurrying to and fro, and banging of doors, followed by polyglot 
shoutings. The monk started up in manifest alarm, and rushed 
out. We all followed, supposing the Bedawin were making a 
sudden raid. On gaining the terraced roof, which commanded 
a view of the great gate, we discovered the cause of all the din 
and bustle : a Roman Archbishop was on his way to the Holy 
City, escorted by a troop of irregular cavalry, who showed alike 
the importance of their trust and their reverence for the Sabbath 
by making as much noise as their guns and drums were capable 
of. Unfortunately for our peace, his Eminence resolved to pass 
the night at Ramleh. To escape for a time from the tumult, 
I proposed a walk over to Lydda, and my companions gladly 
acquiesced. 

LYDDA. 

The sun was already low in the west when we entered the 
broad avenue-like road that leads to Lydda. It was a beautiful 
evening — the sky cloudless, the atmosphere transparent as 
crystal. The sunbeams fell slanting on the dense foliage of the 
orange and apricot trees, here gilding the topmost leaves, and 
yonder shooting in lines of gold through the openings. The 
sea breeze was just setting in. Now it played among the rust- 
ling branches of the tall palms, and now it seemed to come 
down for a moment and breathe its balmy breath in our faces. 
The road, covered deeply with red sand, is lined with orchards. 



1 88 THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 

in which we saw orange, lemon, peach, pomegranate, and carub 
trees, intermixed with the palm, walnut, and sycamore ; and 
the whole enclosed by huge hedges of cactus, whose luscious 
fruit, clinging quaintly to the sides of the great thick leaves, was 
now almost ripe. An easy walk of three-quarters of an hour 
brought us to Ludd, the modern as well as the more ancient 
name of the apostolic Lydda (i Chron. viii. 12). I have often 
been sadly disappointed on approaching an old Bible city, 
which fancy had somehow decked in the choicest beauties of 
nature and art, but which reality transformed into mud hovels 
on a rocky hill-side. It was not so with Lydda. Even now, 
though its glory is gone, Lydda has an imposing look. It is 
embowered in verdure. Olive groves encircle it, and stretch 
far out over the surrounding plain, and their dusky hue is 
relieved here and there by the brighter foliage of the apricot 
and mulberry ; while, near the houses, vines are seen creeping 
over garden walls and clambering up the great gnarled trunks 
and branches of the walnut trees. 

The village stands on a gentle eminence, and high above its 
terraced roofs rise the splendid ruins of England's patron 
saint. Lydda, tradition says, was the native place of St. George ; 
and England's chivalrous king, the lion-hearted Richard, built 
in his honour this noble church, the ruins of which now form 
the chief attraction of Ludd. The walls and part of the groined 
roof of the chancel still . remain, and also one lofty pointed 
arch, with its massive clustered columns and white marble 
capitals, rich in carving and fret-work. 

We climbed to the top of the crumbling wall, and there sat 
down to read the story of Peter's visit to this place (Acts ix. 
32-39). The whole village was in full view, and the great plain 
around it. Peter was away on one of his missionary tours in 
the hill country of Samaria, " and he came down also to the 
saints which dwelt at Lydda." He came down through the 
denies of those mountains, and across that broad rich plain of 



PETER'S MIR A CLE AT L YD DA. 



189 



Sharon, or " Saron," and up the gentle ascent to this old town. 
The saints met him as he entered, and told him of the sufferings 
of poor paralytic Eneas; and the scene then enacted at his 
bed-side was such as the people had never before witnessed. 
" Peter said unto him, Eneas, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole ; 
arise and make thy bed. And he arose immediately." As 
the words reached his ears, divine power operated on his body. 
The wondrous tidings sped from mouth to mouth, from group to 
group, from town to country. All eagerly inquired ; some pro- 
bably at first doubted, but when they saw the healed paralytic, 
faith triumphed, and " all that dwelt in Lydda and Saron turned 
to the Lord." The joyful news soon found its way to Joppa, 
ten miles distant; and then the mourning friends of the chari- 
table Tabitha despatched quick messengers to tell Peter of her 
death, half hoping that even she might not be beyond the reach 
of his power. Peter delayed not, but set out across that western 
plain on another journey of mercy. 

As we looked from our commanding position over that wide 
landscape, we could not but admit that there was a charm in it 
independent of all its hallowed associations. It was one of those 
views which, like a picture by Claude, never pass from the 
memory. On the north lay the vast plain of Sharon, variegated 
with green meadows and yellow corn-fields ; for, though only 
the end of April, the fields were " already white to the harvest." 
In the far distance we could just distinguish the pale blue sum- 
mits of Carmel. On the east, the view was bounded by the long 
range of the mountains of Israel, their rounded tops now tinged 
with the ruddy evening light ; and the deep purple shadows of 
their ravines throwing out in bold relief the old ruined cities and 
modern villages that crown nearly all the projecting cliffs. On 
the south, a swell in the plain concealed Philistia; but that 
swell was clothed with the orchards of Ramleh, whose tapering 
minarets and tall white tower shoot up from the midst of the 
dense foliage. On the west, beyond the gardens, there was 



19° THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES 

first a stretch of brown sandy plain; then a narrow dark belt ; 
traced by the orange groves of Joppa ; and then the Mediter- 
ranean, gleaming like a mirror of burnished gold beneath the 
setting sun. 

On Monday morning, before the sun had yet risen over 
Judah's hills, we were all in the saddle, following a gay trooper, 
bristling with arms, along the broad sandy road to Philistia. 
Selim, our new companion, was to fill the double post of guide 
and guard : and he was admirably qualified for office ; for he 
knew the name of every village, fountain, and wady between 
Ramleh and Gaza ; and he was on terms of close friendship 
with all the bandits in the province. Our route was at first 
dreary enough, traversing bleak downs of brown sand, over 
which a few flocks of sheep and goats followed their shepherds, 
apparently bound for better pastures. But the morning, as 
usual, was bright and beautiful, the air fresh and exhilarating, 
and Selim full of tales of border raids, and old traditions about 
Samson and Jahld (Goliath); so we got on cheerily. An hours 
ride brought us to the top of the swell which separates Sharon 
from Philistia. The latter plain now opened up before us, 
rolling away to the southern horizon in graceful undulations, 
clothed with a rich mantle of green and gold — harvest-field, and 
pasture-land. Ruins were visible everywhere ; but the villages 
were few, small, and far between. The distant hill-sides were 
more thickly studded with them; and Selim told us that though, 
like the old. Danites, the people lived there for security, their 
possessions and crops were chiefly in the plain. 

EKRON. 

Akir soon came in sight ; and a quarter of an hour's gallop 
along a beaten path, through fields of corn, brought us to the 
village. We dismounted, and sat down beside the only anti- 
quity of the place, a large deep well ; such a well, probably, 
as the servants of Abraham dug at Gerar and Beersheba in 



EKRON. 



olden times. A crowd of villagers collected to gaze at the 
strangers. The men were chiefly conspicuous for the huge 
daggers in their girdles, and their enormous turbans, which 
seemed out of all proportion with the rest of their scanty ward- 
robe. The women were in rags, and most of the children stark 
naked. Akir is a wretched village, containing some forty or 
fifty mud hovels ; its narrow lanes encumbered with heaps of 
rubbish and filth. It stands on a bare slope, and the ground 
immediately around it has a dreary and desolate look, heightened 
by a few stunted trees scattered here and there round the houses. 
Yet this is all that marks the site and bears the name of the 
royal city of Ekron. There is not a solitary vestige of royalty 
there now. With feelings which it would be difficult to describe, 
we took out our Bibles, and read the doom pronounced upon it 
by the Hebrew prophet while it yet stood in all the pride of its 
strength and beauty : "Ekron shall be rooted up " (Zeph. ii. 4). 

We read also the interesting narrative of the restoration of the 
ark to the Israelites, when it was conveyed on the new cart from 
Ekron to Beth-shemesh, (1 Sam. vi.) The position of the latter 
city was pointed out to us by Selim. It is beautifully situated 
in the side of the deep valley of Surar, the ancient Sorek, a short 
distance above the place where it opens from the mountains of 
Judah into the plain. It is about ten miles from Ekron, and a 
broad vale, or rather depression, winds down from it to the 
Mediterranean. On the northern slope of this vale Ekron 
stands. Up that vale ran the ancient highway, " straight to 
Beth-shemesh," along which went the " lowing kine," bearing the 
ark, and " turned not aside to the right hand nor to the left." 
It was just about this season of the year too ; for the "men of 
Beth-shemesh were reaping their wheat-harvest in the valley " — 
that very valley of Surar which now waved with ripening grain. 
The chiefs of the Philistines followed the ark to the border of 
Beth-shemesh — that is, to the foot of the mountains; and there, 
having given up their charge, " they returned to Ekron the same 



192 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



day." We were all deeply impressed with the simplicity and, 
at the same time, graphic power of the narrative. 

Again we mounted, and led by our active guide, struck at a 
dashing pace down the gentle slope, then diagonally across the 
meadows and wheat-fields of Wady Surar. The sun was already 
high in the heavens, and not a cloud as large as a man's hand 
to shade us from his fierce beams. The rainy season was past 
in the low plain of Philistia. A single cloud would now have 
been looked on as a wonder ; and as for a shower, the peasants 
would have been as much terrified at it as the Israelites were, 
fvhen, in answer to the prayer of Samuel, the Lord "sent thunder 
md rain " in the time of wheat-harvest (1 Sam. xii. 17). Through 
the centre of the wady, deeply furrowed in the alluvial soil, winds 
the torrent-bed of the Sorek, already dry, except here and there 
where water lay stagnant in little pools, half concealed by the 
dark foliage and gorgeous flowers of the oleander. The rivers 
of this southern land are mere winter torrents ; the summer's 
sun dries them up, scorching the reeds, and rank grass, and 
bright flowers of early spring ; just as Isaiah describes it : " The 
river shall be wasted and dried up \ the reeds and flags shall 
wither. The paper-reeds by the brooks, by the mouth of the 
brooks, and everything sown by* the brooks, shall wither, be 
driven away, and be no more " (Isa. xix. 5-7). But when the 
autumn rain falls, the streams return to their beds, and the 
waters flow murmuring over the pebbles, and the dead plants 
burst forth into new life and verdure. How beautiful the 
prayer, and how appropriate the allusion of the Psalmist : — - 

1 ' As streams of water in the south, 

Our bondage, Lord, recall." — (Ps. cxxvi. 4). 

Skirting the base of a low limestone ridge we opened up the 
plain of Yebna, extending away on the right to the shores of 
the Mediterranean, — almost as smooth as the surface of the 
sea itself, and having a little hill, like an island in the centre, 



PATRIARCHAL CUSTOMS. 



1 93 



covered in part with the ruins of the ancient Jabneh (2 Chron. 
xxvi. 6), and in part with the humble houses of its modern 
representative ; in part, too, with the remains of a crusader's 
church. The plain was all astir with bands of reapers, men 
and women ; and close behind them the gleaners, mostly young 
girls, reminding one of the faithful Ruth. The great proprietors 
were there too, moving about, like Boaz, from field to field 
among their labourers, clad in their scarlet cloaks. As we 
passed each group Selim saluted them with an Ullah makum, 
— " The Lord be with you ; " and they returned the invariable 
response, " The Lord bless thee." Not only are the manners 
and customs unchanged in this land, but the very words of 
salutation are what they were three thousand years ago (Ruth 
ii- 3, 4). 

Leaving this low-lying plain we ascended the bleak downs, 
where vast flocks of sheep and camels were browsing; and 
away on our left, nearly a mile distant, we saw the black tents 
of their Arab owners. They saw us also ; and a party of ten 
or twelve splendidly mounted came upon us at full gallop, their 
spears glittering in the sunbeams, and their braided hair and 
flowing robes streaming behind them. Selim rode out to meet 
them, and I followed to hear the parley. Before a word was 
spoken, Selim and the Arab chief threw themselves from their 
horses and joined in a cordial embrace. The sight was not 
new to me, yet it was most interesting. Each rested his hands 
upon the shoulder of the other, and laid his head upon his 
neck ; or, to use the expressive words of Scripture, " He fell 
o? 1 his neck, and kissed him" (Gen. xxvii. 33). We were now 
invited, and pressed with genuine Arab warmth to go to the 
camp. " O my lords," said the chief, addressing us, " pass not 
away, I pray you, from your servant. The sun is high; the 
day is hot ; honour his house with your presence ; let him kill 
a sheep, and set bread before you, and then depart in peace." 
We respectfully declined, pleading the distance we had yet to 



194 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



ride, and the absence of our servants. Amid all their wildness 
and waywardness, a hospitality worthy of the old patriarchs is 
still practised by these sons of the desert. I have narrated the 
incident, and accurately translated the language used, because 
it illustrates such passages as Gen. xviii., and xix 2. 

ASHDOD. 

On approaching Ashdod we were all charmed with the beauty 
of the site, and the wonderful richness of the country imme- 
diately around it. We had left the line of the great caravan 
road to Gaza and Egypt, and had turned into a beaten track 
leading straight to the village. It crosses a vale, some three 
miles wide, and extending far to the eastward ; — perfectly level, 
and one unbroken expanse of golden corn, the richest I had 
anywhere seen in Palestine, rivalling even the best parts of 
Bashan. There was not a fence, nor tree, nor house upon it. 
Our path was bordered by the tall ripe grain; and our attendants 
plucked the ears as they rode along, "and did eat, rubbing 
them in their hands" (Luke vi. 1). We could here see how 
true to nature was the illustration in the parable of the sower, 
— " And as he sowed, some fell by the wayside"" (Mark iv. 4). 
When the husbandman sows such fields as these, some seeds 
must necessarily fall upon the unfenced, beaten tracks, which 
traverse them in every direction. 

The plain sweeps the northern base of the low, rounded hill 
on which once stood the royal city of Ashdod. The temples, 
palaces, and houses are all gone. The dust of centuries has 
covered them. Terraced orchards of figs and olives, apricots 
and pomegranates, now occupy their places, clothing the hill- 
side from base to summit. The modern village of Esdfid, a 
confused group of mud hovels, lies embowered on the eastern 
slope. It bears the ancient name ; but we might truly change 
it to Ichabod, for its glory is departed. 

We rode to it through winding lanes, hedged with the giant 



DESOLA TION OF ASHDOD. 



cactus, round whose shapeless stems, and quaint branches and 
leaves, the convolvulus and honeysuckle had woven garlands 
of bright flowers. The village is wretched in the extreme. 
Groups of hungry-looking men and squalid women lounged 
lazily in the dirty lanes, and on the dusty roofs, gazing listlessly 
on the strangers, and scarcely able to muster energy enough t<? 
curse the infidel Frank. As we looked on them and their 
miserable dwellings, the words of Zechariah flashed upon our 
memory : " A bastard shall dwell in Ashdod, and I will cut off 
the pride of the Philistines." We climbed to the top of the 
hill. The temple of Dagon, in which the ark of the Lord was 
put, must have stood here ; for the sea is visible, and Dagon, 
" the fish god," was doubtless placed where he could look out 
over the element he was supposed to personify. Not a vestige 
of the temple is there now. Along the southern declivity old 
building stones, with fragments of columns and sculptured 
capitals, are piled up in the fences of little fields, and in the 
walls of goat and sheep pens, showing how time, and God's 
unchangeableness, have converted prophecy into history: "And 
the sea-coast shall be dwellings and cottages for shepherds, and 
folds for flocks." 

How sad, and yet how glorious is the view from the top of 
that hill, beneath which the dust of a mighty city lies dis- 
honoured ! On the one side the noble plain, stretching away 
to the foot of Judah's mountains, here and there cultivated, but 
mostly neglected and desolate, yet all naturally rich as in the 
palmiest days of Philistia's power. On the other side a dreary, 
hopeless waste of drifting sand, washed away yonder by the 
waves of the Mediterranean, and here, at our feet, advancing 
with slow and silent, but resistless step, covering, and to cover, 
flower and tree, ancient ruin and modern hut, in one common 
tomb. 



196 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



II. 

" O thou sword of the Lord, how long will it be ere thou be quiet ? Put up thyself intc 
thy scabbard, rest, and be still. How can it be quiet, seeing the Lord hath given 
it a charge against Ashkelon, and against the sea-shore ? There hath he appointed 
it," — Jer. xlvii. 6, 7. 

We descended the hill of Ashdod, our horses leaping lightly 
as mountain goats from terrace to terrace, spurning the dust of 
the royal city, their iron hoofs ever and anon ringing upon 
fragments of broken pillars and sculptured stones. At the 
southern base of the hill, beside a miniature lake, are the walls 
of an old khan, and near it a dilapidated mosque. Beside the 
latter lies a richly carved sarcophagus of white marble, long ago 
opened and rifled. Here squatted a dervish — a dirty, ragged, 
miserable wretch — mumbling his senseless prayers to Allah, 
telling his beads, and swaying his body to and fro. He never 
turned his head nor moved a muscle as we rode up to him, but 
continued to look with a dreamy, vacant stare on the roofless 
khan, shattered mosque, and ruin-strewn site. He might have 
passed for the genius of Ashdod as he sat thus on the broken 
coffin. We saluted him, and he started as if awakened from 
sleep. He entered freely into conversation, and showed far 
more intelligence and knowledge than we could have given him 
credit for. He told us some legends of Ashdod's ancient glory, 
strangely mixing up in them the names of Daud, Suleiman, 
Jalud (Goliath), and Mohammed. We listened with interest to 
his stories as we took our mid-day rest beneath the shade of a 
mulberry tree. It was pleasing to hear incidents of Scripture 
history — distorted and exaggerated though they were — from the 
lips of this wild Moslem fanatic. Dervishes are a privileged 
class in the East ; half madmen half saints, they are welcomed 
everywhere as the special favourites of Heaven ; they have free 
access to every house, and never want for food or lodging. I 
have seen a Turkish pasha descend from his place and kiss the 



A DERVISH. 



197 



hand of a dervish who had wandered into his council chamber; 
and when the mother of the late Sultan joined the pilgrim 
caravan to Mecca, the train of grandees that escorted her out 
of Damascus was led by a dervish, stark naked, mounted on a 
gorgeously caparisoned charger, and attended by four grooms 
in the royal livery ! The clothes of these unfortunates, when 
they wear any, are always in tatters, and their persons and 
habits are disgustingly filthy. As I sat and looked at this 
squalid dervish amid the ruins of Ashdod, and as I reflected on 
the privileges enjoyed by his class, in ancient as well as modern 
times, I was strongly reminded of that romantic episode in the 
life of King David when he took refuge in another of Philistia's 
royal cities. He thought he might have escaped unnoticed ; 
but he was recognised at once as the conqueror of Goliath. 
His fate appeared to be sealed. But " he feigned himself mad 
in their hands;" he "scrabbled on the doors of the gate, and 
let his spittle fall dow?i upon his beard," — he acted the dervish, 
in fact; he acted well ; and his acting saved his life (1 Sam. 
xxi. 1 1 -1 5). 

An hour's gallop over bleak sandy downs, affording occa- 
sional glimpses of the bright sea on the right, brought us to the 
little village of Hamameh. The olive groves that encircle it are 
fringed with vineyards, now fresh and beautiful in their new 
and delicate foliage. We pressed our panting steeds along 
winding lanes, hedged with giant cactus, and shaded with dusky 
olives. Here again hedges and trees were all wreathed with 
convolvulus of every colour, while the vineyards, meadows, and 
corn-fields behind blushed with poppies and anemones. It was 
a lovely scene, and after the burning sandy downs, and the sun- 
scorched plains, we thought it a paradise : — The hedges so trim ; 
the olive-shade so dense ; the young vine shoots so green ; the 
flowers so gay; the fields of melons and cucumbers so neat; 
the grain so wonderfully luxuriant. Here, we thought, at least 
the curse has not fallen on Philistia. A sharp turn in the road 



I9 8 THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 

suddenly and sadly dispelled this pleasing delusion. Close on 
the right now rose mounds of drifting sand. We could see 
that they are advancing, — slowly, steadily, — burying everything 
in their course. Fields of wheat, sown only a few months ago, 
were already partly covered. Vineyards were all but obliterated ; 
— here and there a topmost branch, still retaining its foliage, 
waved over its own tomb. Further back, traces of olive groves, 
some of the larger trees standing in great bowls of sand, their 
trunks embedded, but the motion of the branches and the sweep 
of the wind beneath their foliage, had as yet kept the top free. 
Their graves were already made, however, and their days were 
numbered. Others had only just been covered up, and two 
or three green twigs projecting from the smooth sand-mounds 
marked their places. 

It was a melancholy sight. It impressed me more deeply 
than anything I had ever seen. One is in some degree pre- 
pared for ruined palace and temple, desolate city and village. 
Man's proudest works are still perishable ; but the face, the 
features, the resources of nature are generally supposed to be 
permanent. We rode on, gazing and wondering, our horses 
sinking deep at every footstep into the soft, fine sand. Then 
taking out my Bible, I could not refrain from reading to my 
companions the strange and terrible doom pronounced on this 
country by the Hebrew prophet five-and-twenty centuries ago : — 
" Woe unto the inhabitants of the sea-coasts ! the word of the 
Lord is against you ; O Canaan, the land of the Philistines, I 
will even destroy thee, and there shall be no inhabitant!" 
(Zeph. ii. 5.) 

We had halted for some time on the top of a mound to 
get a wider view of the country and a clearer idea of the 
destruction impending over it. Selim could not understand 
us. With manifest impatience he pointed once and again to 
the sun now sinking in glory behind the sand-hills. At last he 
could wait no longer. With a wild whoop, and a flourish of 



CHARMS OF TENT LIFE. 



199 



his rifle, he dashed his heavy stirrups into the flanks of his fiery 
Arab, and disappeared through the entrance of a shady lane. 
We all followed at a hard gallop, and in a few minutes were 
beside our truant guide in the bustling streets of Mejdel, 
with a score of noisy dogs at our heels, and troops of chil- 
dren at the open doors and on the house-tops, screaming to 
their fellows to come and see the Franjis with the kettles on 
their heads. Leaving the village behind, and winding through 
an olive grove, we came to an open glade, where our tents 
were pitched, and all ready for our reception, 

TENT LIFE. 

What a charm there is in tent life on the hills and plains 
of Palestine ! It presents such a contrast to the staid routine, 
alike of labour and recreation in our island home, to the 
rapidity and regularity of rail and hotel, that one can scarcely 
think himself in the same world. The sense of complete free- 
dom, of absolute independence, is strange and new. Then 
there is the dash of danger, the exhilarating effect of pure air 
and exercise, and, above all, the magic influence of place — of 
sacred and historic associations ever crowding on the mind, 
suggested and awakened by names and scenes, all of them of 
hoary antiquity, and yet all familiar as household words and 
childhood's home. Every spot on which we tread is holy. 
Every ruin we pass by has a place in history. Every mountain 
and vale the eye roams over has a story written in the oldest 
and best of books. All we see belongs to and illustrates the 
past. The costumes of the people, the implements of husbandry, 
the houses, the tents, are all such as were familiar to Abraham ; 
and the salutations are the very same with which Abraham was 
greeted when he visited the Philistine lords at Gerar, or bar- 
gained for the field of Machpelah at Hebron. We roam through 
these hallowed scenes all the day, and when evening comes, we 
select some grassy spot beside bubbling fountain or old welL 



200 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



We dismount; and then, as if by magic, horses are picketted, 
tents are pitched, fires are kindled, and all got ready in true 
gipsy style — in patriarchal style, I should say — for thus the old 
patriarchs lived and travelled through these very hills and plains. 

The sun goes down in a blaze of glory; the brief twilight 
declines to a faint purple streak along the western horizon; the 
stars come out like crystal lamps hung to the black vault of 
heaven, or it may be the moon sheds her clear silvery light on 
the landscape, making it look like a sepia-sketch by some 
master hand. Dusky figures now group themselves in a circle 
round the watch-fire, and we retire to our tents to write up our 
journals, or read again with new interest the story of the places 
we have visited during the day. The Bible is drawn forth, the 
best and most accurate of all Handbooks for Palestine ; and 
old Reland, with his classic references and historic incidents, 
all ready to the scholar's hand. Here is the tale of Ekron and 
the ark. We now learn with surprise that Ashdod, which 
appeared, as we passed through it, so poor and so wretched, 
once stood a siege of twenty-nine years against the whole forces 
of Egypt under Psammiticus — the longest siege on record. We 
find, too, that Mejdel, the village beside us, is that Migdal-gad, 
which was allotted with fifteen other cities in this plain to the 
tribe of Judah (Josh. xv. 37). And it was also that Magdala, 
where Herodotus tells us Pharaoh-necho conquered the Syrians. 
For the classical scholar, the Bible-student, and the earnest 
Christian, tent-life and travel in Palestine have an unceasing 
charm. And in after years, amid other scenes, I can tell from 
sweet experience that the days and weeks and months spent 
there will appear as spots of bright sunshine on the cloudy 
landscape of memory. 

THRESHING FLOORS AND THRESHING INSTRUMENTS. 

The threshing-floors of Mejdel were near our tents. W T e 
went over to them in the grey twilight. They are circles of 



THRESHING-INSTRUMENTS OF IRON. 



201 



smooth ground fifteen to twenty yards in diameter. Each had 
on it a heap of newly-reaped grain ; and round the outer edges 
of the heaps were broad flattened belts, where the " instru- 
ments" had already been at work. Labour had ceased for the 
night, and the oxen were feeding freely on the half-trodden 
grain, as if their masters were resolved to obey to the letter the 
Scripture command, " Thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he 
treadeth out the corn" (Deut. xxv. 4). The " threshing-instru- 
ments" are flat, heavy, wooden slabs, some five feet long by 
three wide, slightly turned up in front. The under surface is 
thickly studded with knobs of hard stone or iron. A massive 
prison-door, with its rows of projecting nail-heads, will give the 
best idea of a mowrej, as the instrument is now called. Each 
is drawn by a "yoke of oxen." The driver stands on the 
mowrej ; and the goad, with which he urges on and directs the 
movements of his team, is a formidable weapon. It is some- 
times ten feet long, and has a sharp iron point. We could now 
see that the feat of Shamgar, who " slew of the Philistines six 
hundred men with an ox-goad" was not so very wonderful as 
some have been accustomed to think (Judges hi. 31). The 
oxen advance in front, " treading out" the grain, and the mowrej 
follows, crushing and cutting the straw with its " teeth" till it is 
reduced almost to dust (2 Kings xiii. 7). How graphic are the 
words of Isaiah, " Behold I will make thee a new sharp thresh- 
ing instrument having teeth : thou shalt thresh the mountains, 
and beat them small, and thou shalt make the hills as chaff!* 
(xli. 15.) How terrible mnst have been the cruelty inflicted by 
Damascus on Gilead, when Amos thus describes it : " They 
have threshed Gilead with threshing instruments of iron!'' 
(ii. 3-) 

The people were at their evening meal. Each group squatted 
in a circle round a huge bowl of burghul — masters and servants, 
with equal freedom, tearing off little bits of thin soft bread, and 
using them as spoons to lift the savoury stew — thus dipping 



202 



THE LAND OF THE PHIL/STEVES. 



their " morsels" (Ruth ii 14), or "sops" (John xiii. 26), into the 
dish. It was a most interesting scene, again bringing vividly 
before our minds the narrative of the threshing-floors of Boaz 
at Bethlehem. 

ASCALON. 

With the first dawn we were in the saddle, and bounding 
away through the groves of Mejdel. The morning air was 
fragrant with the perfume of wild flowers, and filled -with the 
sweet soft " voice of the turtle," which seemed to float from tree 
to tree — now behind, now in front, now close on the right, now 
far away on the left, as if given back by a thousand echoes. 
The groves and fields are soon left behind, and we enter the 
sandy waste. Giving our eager horses the rein, they plunge on 
madly, over ridge and through hollow. The Mediterranean 
soon came into view; and a noble view it was — a boundless ex- 
panse of blue water, 

" Canopied by the blue sky, 
So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful, 
That God alone was to be seen in heaven." 

Before us, on the shore, was a green oasis, in the midst of 
the white waste of sand. Orchards of apples and apricots, palm 
trees rising gracefully over them, and the soft and varied foliage 
of vines and pomegranates forming a dense underwood. Behind 
this desert paradise, and protecting it from the all-devouring 
drift, rose what appeared to be a line of jagged cliffs. We rode 
straight to the oasis, and entering, discovered in the midst of 
it the little village of Jureh. Looking up we now saw that the 
cliffs resolved themselves into the ruined ramparts of Ascalon. 
We rode on. Our horses saw the rugged heights and seemed 
to know their task. Onward and upward they proceed, now 
gathering their feet close together on a block of masomy, now 
springing lightly as gazelles across a chasm, now scrambling 
painfully up the shattered wall; and at length, with a leap and 
a snort of triumph, gaining the very summit of the battlements 



DESOLATION OF ASCALON. 



203 



What a scene of desolation there burst at once upon our 
view ! With all my previous experience of Syrian ruins — and I 
had seen Bozrah and Kenath, Gadara and Samaria, Baalbek 
and Palmyra — I was not prepared for this. Such utter, terrible 
desolation I had never met before. The site of Ascalon is in 
form like an old Roman theatre — the sea in front, and the 
ground once occupied by the city, rising gradually and uni- 
formly to the wall, which runs in a semicircle from shore to 
shore. The whole site was before us. Not a house, nor 
a fragment of a house remains standing. Not a foundation of 
temple or palace can be traced entire. One half of it is 
occupied with miniature fields, and vineyards, and fig-orchards ; 
rubbish-mounds here and there among them, and great heaps 
of hewn stones, and broken shafts, and sculptured slabs of 
granite and marble. The rude fences exhibit similar painful 
evidences of ancient wealth and magnificence. — The other half 
of the site was still more fearfully desolate. It is so thickly 
covered with drift sand, that not a heap of rubbish, not a vestige 
of a ruin remains visible, save here and there where the top of 
a column rises like a tombstone above the smooth surface. 
The sand is fast advancing; it has already covered some of the 
highest fragments of the southern and western wall, and ere a 
quarter of a century has passed, the site of Ascalon will have been 
blotted out for ever. 

Dismounting, I took out my Bible and read the doom pro- 
nounced upon Ascalon by the prophets Zechariah and Zephaniah, 
— " Askelon shall not be inhabited''' 1 — " Askelon shall be a desola- 
tion" (Zech. iv. 5; Zeph. ii. 4). Ascalon is a desolation; it 
shall net be, cannot be, inhabited. 1 As we stood there and 
looked, we said to each other, " The eye of the omniscient God 
alone could have foreseen such a doom as this." 

We lingered long among the ruins of Ascalon; visiting every 
rubbish-heap, and inspecting every column. The walls were 
interesting to us, not so much from their high antiquity, or the 



204 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



almost miraculous way in which they have been rent and shat- 
tered and tumbled down in huge fragments, as from the fact 
that they were last built, in crusading times, by our lion-hearted 
King Richard. 

GAZA. 

Gaza is ten miles from Ascalon as the crow flies. In three 
hours we were at our tents, which we found ready pitched in 
an olive-grove some distance from the town. We had a long 
evening before us, and sufficient time to see all the objects of 
interest in and around the place. We were anxious to gain 
admission to the great mosque — the only building of any historic 
note now standing in Gaza. It was formerly a Christian church, 
built by the liberality of the Empress Eudoxia, about a.d. 406. 
We were disappointed, as we found the fanatical populace pre- 
pared to resist by main force any attempt at intrusion. 

Gaza still contains about 15,000 inhabitants. The town 
resembles a clustre of large villages. The principal one stands 
on the top of a low hill, and the others lie on the plain at its 
base. The hill appears to be composed in a great measure of 
the accumulated ruins of successive cities. We can see por- 
tions of massive walls and the ends of old columns cropping 
up everywhere from the rubbish. There are no walls or 
defences of any kind; and the inhabitants have long been 
known as a fierce and lawless set of fanatics. Between Gaza 
and the sea is a belt of sand, about three miles wide. A mile 
east of the town a ridge of low hills runs parallel to the coast. 
Between the sand and these hills the ground is of unrivalled 
fertility, and supplies the town with abundance of the choicest 
fruit and vegetables. 

As we stood examining the architecture of the great mosque, 
which occupies the crown of the hill, an old Moslem sheikh 
came up, and said, pointing with his pipe to a deep cut- 
ting in a mound of rubbish near us, " There is Samson's 
Gate." "Who is Samson'?" we asked. "A giant who came 



SAMSON'S HILL A T GAZA. 



205 



to Ghuzzeh; and when the infidels who then lived here shut the 
gate to keep him in, he pulled it off, killed the keepers with a 
blow of the bar, and carried the whole away under his arm." 
"Where did he take the gate to?" we again inquired. "To the 
top of that hill where you see the wely" — turning the end of 
his long pipe to the highest point of the ridge to the eastward. 

The sheikh was in all probability right. Whether or no, we 
were gratified to hear such a tradition lingering on this spot 
1 wandered away alone through the gardens and orchards, and 
climbed Samson's Hill. I was amply repaid for my toil. The 
view is wide and most interesting. The town lay at my feet, 
with its circuit of vendure ; beyond it the white sandy downs ; 
and farther still, the Mediterranean, gleaming in the sunlight 
On the south, the great road to Egypt, so often trodden by the 
Pharaohs, running away along the plain, a meandering line. 
The valley of Gerar was visible, — a depression in the plain, 
extending from the coast far inland. I could see in it the black 
tents of the Arabs, who now feed their flocks on the pastures 
once so highly prized by Abraham and Isaac, (Gen. xx. 1-16 ; 
xxvi.) On the east and north-east was spread out the great 
undulating plain of Philistia, patched with green and red in the 
foreground, but dissolving into a uniform grey in the distance, 
and shut in in the far distance by the mountains that encircle 
Hebron, now ruddy with the evening sun. " Samson took the 
doors of the gate of the city, and the two posts, and went away 
with them, bar and all, and put them upon his shoulders, and 
carried tJiem up to the top of an hill that is before Hebron" (Judges 
xvi. 3). I was now convinced the sheikh's tradition was true, 
and that I stood on the very spot where Samson deposited the 
gates of Gaza. 



uo > 



14 



206 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



III. 

" In many a heap the ground 
Heaves, as if Ruin in a frantic mood 
Had done his utmost. Here and there appears, 
As left to show his handy -work not ours, 
An idle column, a half-buried arch, 
A wall of some great temple." 

The road from Gaza to Jerusalem " is desert" as we learn 
from the incidental remark of Luke (Acts viii. 26), and as I can 
testify from personal observation. It runs across a dreary, 
parched plain, which, on the right and left, extends to the 
horizon, and in front is shut in by the blue mountains of Judah. 
On emerging from the olive groves of Gaza, the desert was be- 
fore us — bare, white, and monotonous, without a solitary tree, 
or the " shadow of a great rock," or a single patch of verdure. 
As we rode on we had overhead the bright sky and blazing 
sun ; and beneath, the flinty soil, reflecting burning rays that 
scorched the weeds and stunted camel-thorn, and made them 
crackle like charred sticks under our horses' feet. As the day 
advanced, the sirocco came upon us, blowing across the great 
"Wilderness of Wandering." At first it was but a faint breath, 
hot and parching, as if coming from a furnace. It increased 
slowly and steadily. Then a thick haze, of a dull yellow or 
brass colour, spread along the southern horizon, and advanced, 
rising and expanding, until it covered the whole face of the sky, 
leaving the sun, a red globe of fire, in the midst. We now 
knew and felt that it was the fierce simoom. In a few moments, 
fine impalpable sand began to drift in our faces, entering every 
pore. Nothing could exclude it. It blew into our eyes, mouths, 
and nostrils, and penetrated our very clothes, causing the skin 
to contract, the lips to crack, and the eyes to burn. Respira- 
tion became difficult. We sometimes gasped for breath ; and 
then the hot wind and hotter sand rushed into our mouths like 
a stream of liquid fire. We tried to urge on our horses ; but 



THE SIMOOM. 



207 



though chafing against curb and rein only an hour before, they 
were now almost insensible to whip and spur. We looked and 
longed for shelter from that pitiless storm, and for water to slake 
our burning thirst ; but there was none. The plain extended 
on every side, smooth as a lake, to the circle of yellow haze that 
bounded it. No friendly house was there ; no rock or bank j 
no murmuring stream nor solitary well. It seemed to us as if 
the prophetic curse pronounced by the Almighty on a sinful 
and apostate nation was now being fulfilled. We could see, at 
least, in the whole face of nature, in earth and sky and storm, 
how terrible and how graphic that curse was : — " Thy heaven 
that is over thy head shall be brass, and the earth that is under 
thee shall be ii'on. The Lord shall ?nake the rain of the land 
powder and dust : from heaven shall it come down upon thee " 
(Deut. xxviii. 23, 24). 

LACHISH AND EGLON. 

The storm was at its height when we saw, rising up before 
us, a low white mound. As we approached we could distin- 
guish heaps of ruins and rubbish; and on reaching it, and 
pressing our panting steeds up its shelving sides in search of 
some rude shelter, we scrambled over large hewn stones, and 
fragments of marble columns, with here and there a piece of 
carved cornice or sculptured pediment protruding from the dust. 
Our guide had dashed on in front, and we eagerly followed, 
heedless of stones, and pits, and prostrate houses — in silence, 
but hoping for some kind of relief. A cry of joy burst from the 
whole party as, on passing the crest of the tell, we saw a low 
broken wall, and not far from it a number of stone troughs 
round the mouth of an old well. The well was dry, but we 
crouched down under the shelter of the wall, and our poor 
horses came close to our feet, lowering their heads and shutting 
their eyes to escape the drifting sand. In about an hour the 
simoom had spent its fury, and we prepared to resume our route. 



203 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



" What place is this 1 " I said to Selim, who lay beside me, coiled 
up in the folds of his capote. " Um Lakis," he replied. Urn 
Lakis ! This then is all that marks the site and bears the name 
oi Lachish, which Joshua besieged and captured (Josh. x. 31-33). 
Starting to my feet I ran to the top of the mound. Round the 
spot where I stood lay the heaped-up ruins and the dust of a 
once great and royal city, now deserted and utterly desolate. 
From the ruins I looked away out over the plain where the 
Israelites were marshalled, having approached from the north ; 
then I turned to the south, to see the route by which the troops 
of " Horam, King of Gezer, came up to help Lachish." The 
brief conflict, and the decisive victory of Joshua, must have 
.been distinctly seen by the inhabitants. And that plain which 
stretches away northward to the horizon, was the scene of an- 
other event — one of the most mysterious and terrible recorded 
in history. The vast army of Sennacherib had " come up " 
against "the fenced cities of Judah." They encamped first 
against Lachish, and then marched on Libnah, a neighbouring 
city (2 Kings xviii. 13, et seq.) The monarch, in the pride of his 
power, when at the head of his victorious soldiers, dared to defy 
the God of Israel. " Who are they," he asked, " among all the 
gods of the countries, that have delivered their country out of 
mine hand, that the Lord should deliver Jerusalem out of mine 
hand?" The Lord himself replied to the impious question : — 
" And it came to pass that night, that the angel of the Lord 
went out, and smote in the camp of the Assyrians an hundred 
four-score and five thousand" (xix. 35). 

" Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, 
That host with their banners at sunset were seen ; 
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, 
That host on the morrow lay withered and strewn. 

For the Angel of death spread his wings on the blast, 
And breathed on the face of the foe as he passed ; 
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, 
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever were still ! 1 1 



EGLON. 



209 



May not the angel of death have spread his wings on the 
blast of some such storm as that which we had just encountered 1 
Had it been only a little more violent, and of a little longer 
duration, no army, exposed to its fury on such a plain, could 
have survived it. 

" From Lachish Joshua passed on to Eglon," and so did we. 
We were now in the track of the great conqueror, treading the 
very soil which he trod more than thirty centuries ago, and 
visiting the sites of those royal cities which he wrested from the 
Canaanite kings. As we read the brief narrative of his marches 
and his victories, we were struck with the minute accuracy of 
his topography. The distance from Lachish to Eglon is just 
about two miles ; and it was thus easy for the Israelites, after 
the capture of the former, to march on the latter, and " take it 
the same day " (Josh. x. 34, 35). 

Eglon, like Lachish, is utterly desolate. It is a shapeless 
mass of ruins and rubbish, strewn over a rounded hillock, with 
two or three light marble shafts standing up among them, like 
tombstones in an old cemetery. 

Still we rode on eastward over the undulating desolate plain. 
Our course lay along the southern border of Philistia, where the 
plain has been overrun for many a century by the wandering 
Ishmaelites of Et-Tih, and where extensive cultivation and 
settled habitation are alike impossible. What it is now it ap- 
pears to have always been — debateable land. From the line 
of our route southward to the valley of Gerar, Abraham and 
Isaac pastured their flocks ; and their shepherds disputed with 
the Philistines about the wells they dug. The pastures, then as 
now, were free and abundant ; but springs of water were too 
rare and precious to be retained or surrendered without a 
struggle. In our ride of more than thirty miles that day we did 
not meet a human being ; and from the moment we left the 
fields of Gaza till we passed in among the rocky spurs of the 
hills of Judah, we did not see a single sign of human life. We 



210 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



saw many towns and villages in ruins — white mounds of rubbish 
— on the grey plain. The words of the prophet were constantly 
in our minds and on our tongues. " O Canaan, the land of the 
Philistines, I will even destroy thee, that there shall be no in- 
habitant " (Zeph. ii. 5). Some miles further north the desola- 
tion is not so complete. I had an opportunity during another 
tour, of visiting two or three little villages still remaining there, 
and of seeing noble fields of grahyound them. 

The sun was setting behind us as we crossed the ridge that 
bounds the pleasant vale of Beit Jibrin. We had now left the 
Skephelah, " the low country," with its white downs and wide 
reaches of bare, desolate plain, and rich corn fields, and we had 
entered the " hill country," with its rocky ridges and conical 
tells, and shrubberies of dwarf ilex, and green winding glens. 
The contrast was great, and the change pleasant. Halting 
beneath the massive ruins of Beit Jibrin our tents were soon 
pitched, and we felt the sweets of rest and sleep after a day of 
unusual fatigue and suffering. 

THE BORDER LAND OF JUDAH AND PHILISTIA. 

When the stranger travels through the hill country, which 
separates the Judean range from the Philistine plain, his atten- 
tion is arrested by many objects which seem strange and almost 
inexplicable. The rich plains are in a great measure deserted ; 
yet the wildest recesses of these hills are studded with villages. 
The people seem to have selected for their abode the most 
rugged and inaccessible localities they could possibly find. 
One would fancy they had something of the spirit of the old 
hermits in them. Here are villages built amid labyrinths of 
rocks j there they are clinging like swallows' nests to the sides 
of precipices ; while away yonder, they are perched like feudal 
castles on the tops of hills. Often, too, when riding through 
yawning ravines, between beetling cliffs, where one would think 
no human being would voluntarily dwell, or could find means 



BORDER LAND. 



21 J 



of life, we are startled by groups of children, most of them 
naked, springing out from holes and caves, and shouting their 
wonder or delight at the strange costume of the travellers. 
Looking up we see, far overhead, vines hanging in festoons 
from the brows of jagged rocks, and miniature corn-fields on 
shelving hill-tops, ground which the eagles sweep in graceful 
circles. We observe, too, that every ancient town and village 
was a fortress ; and that every modern hamlet is capable of 
defence. Another remarkable characteristic of this region is 
the multitude of its caves. They are found wherever there is 
a trace of human habitation — hewn in the soft calcareous rock, 
and so constructed as to form secure magazines for grain, and 
safe places of abode for the inhabitants in time of danger. The 
solution of these anomalies is, that this has always been border 
land. Ever>- foot of it was keenly contested by the Israelites 
and Philistines. At a later period the Idumeans invaded the 
south and west of Palestine. From the fall of the Jewish power 
to the present day, an unceasing warfare has been waged 
between the roving freebooters of the plain and the settled 
dwellers on the mountains. 

The Bethogabra of the Jews, the Eleutheropolis of the Greeks, 
the Beigiberin of the Crusaders, and the Beit Jibrin of the Arabs, 
was for more than fifteen centuries the chief fortress of the 
border land, — the key of the mountains, and the defence of the 
great roads from Jerusalem and Hebron to Gaza. The massive 
ruins of its castle, among which the first dawn of the morning 
found us wandering, show its ancient importance. But we were 
still more deeply interested in the caverns excavated in the 
rocky banks of the vale south of the ruins. Having procured 
lights and a guide we closely examined the three principal 
groups. They are unique in plan and character, — altogether 
different from the temple-tombs of Egypt, and the beautiful rock 
chambers of Petra, and the intricate sepulchres of Jerusalem. 
Here are long ranges of bell-shaped chambers, some of them 



212 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



seventy feet in diameter, and sixty high, connected by arched 
doorways, and winding subterranean passages, and long flights 
of steps ascending and descending. Many are entirely dark ; 
others are lighted by a circular aperture at the top ; the roofs 
of others have partially fallen in, leaving jagged openings through 
which the sunlight streams, and long brambles hang down. 
Side chambers, like galleries, are occasionally seen opening high 
up in the wall. Near and among them, also, are tombs, ranging 
from twenty to sixty feet in length, with tiers of recesses for 
bodies on each side. It is a strange, romantic spot this vale of 
Beit Jibrin. One might spend days roaming through its 
mysterious caves, which look like subterranean towns. The 
remains on the surface, too, are well worth the attention of the 
antiquarian and the architect. Cyclopean foundations, indicat- 
ing the Jewish or Phoenician age, solid walls, and deep wells of 
the Roman period, the light and picturesque Gothic of Crusading 
times, are all displayed in groups through this valley. And 
away at its southern extremity is a bare conical hill, honey- 
combed with caverns. That is the site of Mareshah, where Asa 
defeated the army of the Ethiopians, (2 Chron. xiv.) 

Sending tents and baggage direct to Beit Nettif, on the side 
of the Valley of Elah, we set out with our guide to explore the 
border land between Beit Jibrin and Bethshemesh. On we 
sped at a dashing pace, invigorated by the mountain air — up 
rocky banks, over rounded ridges with bare crowns of naked 
limestone, through tangled brakes of prickly ilex and wild plum, 
and across green vales, down which wound dry torrent beds, 
covered with white glistening pebbles, and fringed with the 
acacia and oleander. Kudna, Dhikrm, and Deir Dubban were 
visited in succession, and their caverns inspected, similar in all 
respects to those above described, except that some of them 
are now converted into cisterns, on which the people depend 
for a supply of water. 



SITE OF GATH DISCOVERED. 



213 



GATH. 

One object of my tour in Philistia was to discover, if possible, 
the long lost site of Gath. Since the days of Jerome it has 
been unknown ; and even the wonderful geographical skill of 
Robinson was unable to trace it out. I need not here detail 
those incidental allusions and topographical notices of the sacred 
writers, and those accurate measurements and references of 
Eusebius and Jerome, which serve to indicate the district in 
which it must have stood. It is enough to say that I was 
satisfied they all pointed to some place on the route we were 
now pursuing. It was, therefore, with an interest approaching 
to excitement we surveyed the position and examined the 
remains of every village and ruin we passed. But from the 
moment we gained the crest of the first ridge north of Beit 
Jibrin, there was one prominent object away before us which 
attracted our chief attention — a bare, white, conical hill, standing 
on the very edge of the great plain, and yet rising high enough 
to command all the rocky spurs up to the very base of the 
mountains. As valley after valley was passed, it became 
more and more conspicuous. At length we reached it, and 
rode over rubbish heaps and terraced vineyards to its sum- 
mit. The hill rises about one hundred feet above the ridge 
that joins it on the east, and some two hundred over the level 
plain that sweeps its western base. It is crowned with the 
foundations of an old castle, and round its sides are numerous 
remains of ancient buildings. The view from it is most ex- 
tensive. The whole plain of Philistia was spread out before us, 
variegated with fields of yellow corn, and red fallow land, and 
long reaches of grey wastes. Away on the south-western 
horizon the white downs of Gaza and Ascalon mingle with the 
glittering waters of the Mediterranean. On the west we could 
see the little hill of Ashdod dark with olive groves : further to 
the right Ekron ; and further still the white tower of Ramleh. 



2I 4 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



The mountains of Judah rise up on the east in dark frowning 
masses ; every peak crowned with village or ruin, whose name 
carries us away thousand of years back. 

The modern name of this hill, Tell es-Sqfiek, gives no clue to 
its ancient name. The Crusaders built a castle on it in the 
twelfth century, and called it Bla?iche-garde; and the surrounding 
country became the scene of some of the daring adventures of 
Richard Ccenr-de-lion. This hill, if fortified — as it evidently 
was from the earliest ages — would be the key of the Philistine 
plain on the east. Watchmen from its summit could see every 
hostile band that would attempt to break forth from the 
mountain denies. The warlike Philistines would never have 
overlooked a position so commanding, and naturally so strong ; 
one so well-fitted also for defending those vast corn-fields in 
which lay their wealth and their power. From the moment I 
set my foot upon Tell es-Safieh, I felt convinced that it is the 
site of the royal city of Gath. 

What a life-like vividness did this discovery throw on some 
of the most romantic incidents of early Jewish history ! The 
gigantic Anakim were annihilated by Joshua throughout the 
whole land ; " Only in Gaza, and Gath, and in Ashdod," those 
impregnable fortresses they remained (Josh. xi. 22). And from 
this place Goliath — one of the last of the giant race — marched 
out in his panoply of mail, the acknowledged champion of the 
Philistines, to threaten and defy the Israelites in the neighbouring 
" valley of Elah," which we shall visit anon, (1 Sam. xvii.) And 
hither, a few years later, David came, a homeless refugee. 
When recognised he feigned himself mad, and easily escaped 
into those thickets that cover the hills around. I had often 
wondered w r hy David should have fled to Gath; and why, 
having at length propitiated the Philistine lords, he should 
have made it his home. Now, on the spot, I saw the reason. 
Here he was perfectly secure from Saul. He was on the very 
border of his kingdom, besides, within a few hours' march of 



VALLEY OF ELAH. 



215 



his native Bethlehem ; thus able to keep up an uninterrupted 
communication with his friends through those mountain passes, 
and ready at a moment's notice to take advantage of any turn 
of events that might seem to favour his ambitious designs. 

Descending through the terraced vineyards that cover the 
whole slopes of Tell es-Safieh, we were struck with the appro- 
priateness of the old name Gath, "wine-press," for such a site 
even yet. An hour's hard ride up a green vale, fragrant with 
thyme, and spangled with wild flowers, brought us into the 
lower part of the "Valley of Elah." Before us, on the crest of 
a rocky ridge, was Jarmuth. On our right rose the ruin-crowned 
tell of Zacharieh, doubtless the site of the ancient Azekah. 
Here then we were close to the place where Joshua captured 
and hanged the five kings, (Josh, x.) After the defeat of 
Gibeon, and the rout of Beth-horon, the fugitives ran along the 
borders of the plain "to Azekah and Makkedah." Hotly 
pursued, they seem to have made for Jarmuth. They had got 
so far up the valley of Elah ; but now, wearied and way-worn, 
they were unable to attempt the steep ascent ; and seeing the 
foe close behind they hid themselves "in a cave at Makkedah;" 
one of those caves with which the whole region abounds. 
Their fate is well known. About a mile above this spot, 
on the right side of the valley, is a ruin called El-Klediah, 
answering to the position, and bearing some resemblance to 
the name of Makkedah. Two hours more over rugged hills 
brought us to 

BETH-SHEMESH. 

Beth-shemesh, " The House of the Sun," does not contain a 
single house now ; heaps of ruins strewn over a broad ridge, and 
half concealed by thistles and poppies, and bright marigolds, 
mark the site of the old city. In modern times its name has 
been somehow changed to Am-es/z-S/iems, "The Fountain of 
the Sun and yet, strange to say, there is no fountain here 
either. But the situation is a noble one. A broad rich vale 



2l6 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



runs down on each side of the swelling ridge meeting in 
front, and then opening a mile or two beyond into the great 
plain. 

We had around us at Beth-shemesh the native country of 
Samson, and from its ruins we could see the scenes of some of 
the leading events of his strange life. Beyond the fertile valley 
on the north rises^a steep hill, crowned with a Muslem wely and 
a small village,— that Is Zorah, the home of Manoah, and 
Samson's birth-place (Judges xiii. 2). It overlooks the whole 
Philistine plain, and most of the border land. Samson must 
thus have been familiar from childhood with border raids and> 
border warfare ; he must have been familiar with the power and 
the tyranny of the Philistines. Many a band of thefti, doubtless, 
did he see marching up the glen beneath his father's house, and 
returning again laden with the spoils of his brethren. Many an 
act of rapine, and cruel outrage, and barbarous murder, had 
left an impress deep and lasting on his mind, stirring him in 
after years to revenge. Some two miles west of Beth-shemesh, 
on the borders of the plain, is Timnath, where Samson got his 
first "wife (xiv. 1). It was in "going down" from the heights of 
Zorah to Timnath — somewhere along the rugged banks of that 
intervening valley — that he killed the young lion. That valley 
itself, now called Sordr, is most probably the " Valley of Sorek," 
where the infamous Delilah dwelt (xvi. 4). It was among these 
hills, and the recesses of those rugged mountains eastward, that 
he caught the "three hundred jackals" (such appears to be the 
true meaning of the Hebrew word), and tying them tail to tail, 
with torches between them, let them go at harvest time among 
the standing corn of the Philistines. What havoc they must 
have made as they sped from field to field, from vineyard 
to olive grove ! And with what wild delight must Samson 
have viewed, from the heights of Zorah, the streams of fire 
sweeping onward and outward in every direction, and the con- 
flagration spreading from stream to stream, until the whole 



DEA TH OF SAMSON. 



217 



plain was one sheet of flame ! Poor Samson was betrayed at 
last :— 

" Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him 
Eyeless in Gaza, at the mill with slaves, 
Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke." 

Fatal ' bondage his to the Philistine lords! Savage cruelty 
theirs, but to be returned ten-fold on their own devoted heads ! 
Thus does Milton describe the last act of Samson's life >— 

" Oh, dearly bought revenge, yet glorious ! 
Living or dying thou hast fulfilled 
The work for which thou wast foretold 
To Israel, and now liest victorious 
Among thy slain, self-killed ; 
Not willingly, but tangled in the fold 
Of dire necessity, whose law in death conjoined 
Thee with thy slaughtered foes in number more 
Than all thy life had slain before." 

Samson's mangled body was brought up from Gaza by his 
brethren, and buried on his native hill, "between Zorah and 
Eshtaol" (xvi. 31). 

We lingered long amid the ruins of Beth-shemesh, reading 
and pondering these and other incidents of sacred history, 
which the places round us naturally suggested. The sun went 
down into the waters of the Mediterranean in a halo of glory. 
The purple shadows of the wild glens gradually waxed deeper 
and darker ; and the jagged outline of hills and mountains was 
drawn in bold relief upon the blue sky. The bright stars came 
out one by one. Still we lingered, reluctant to turn away for 
ever from a spot so strangely interesting. A long, low, plaintive 
wail suddenly broke the deep silence of the mountains over us. 
Another, like an echo, answered it from the valley. Then 
another, and another, louder, and clearer, and nearer, until 
mountain, glen, and distant plain resounded with a ceaseless 
howl of jackals. They seem to be as numerous yet as they 
were in Samson's days. 

At length Selim urged us to mount, reminding us that Beit 



2l8 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



Nettif was still far distant, and that the road over the mountains 
was both difficult and dangerous. For the danger we cared 
not; experience had long ago taught us that brigands never 
infest the mountain roads by night. But we had only ridden a 
very short distance when we found that the path, if path there 
ever had been from Beth-shemesh to Beit Nettif, was hopelessly 
lost. Our situation was anything but pleasant. There was no 
village within miles of us. We thought of a bivouac ; but our 
poor horses had eaten nothing since the morning, and there 
was neither food nor water for them here. On we pressed, 
therefore, over rock and bank, through thicket and torrent-bed, 
guided in our course by the stars, and trusting to the sagacity 
of our horses for the rest. For nearly three weary hours we 
rode on, gradually ascending, and then reached the top of a 
rugged ridge, and saw lights moving about before us. We fired 
4 a shot, and it was immediately answered. A shout from Selim 
was replied to by our muleteers and servants, who had come in 
search of us. My readers may well suppose that having been 
more than thirteen hours in the saddle we were ready for dinner 
and bed on reaching our tents. 

THE VALLEY OF ELAH. 

The morning sun had already bathed in ruddy light the 
mountain tops round Beit Nettif, and thrown their shadows far 
out across Philistia's plain, when mounting our horses we began 
the steep descent, through terraced vineyards and olive groves, 
to " the Valley of Elah." A long reach of the valley lay at'Our 
feet. It is about a quarter of a mile wide, with rich alluvial 
bottom, and sides rising steeply, but not precipitously, to the 
height of five hundred feet or more. Through the centre winds 
a torrent bed, now dry, but thickly covered with smooth white 
stones, and fringed with shrubs. On reaching the valley we 
turned to the right and rode about a mile down it through corn 
fields. Then we saw on the left bank above us the grey ruins 
# 



BA TTLE OF DA VID AND GOLIA TH. 



219 



of Shocoh, and we knew that we now stood on the battle-field 
of David and Goliath. "The Philistines gathered together 
their armies to battle, and were gathered together at Shocoh. 
. . . . And Saul and the men of Israel were gathered together, 
and pitched by the Valley of Elah, and set the battle in array 
against the Philistines. And the Philistines stood on a 
mountain on the one side, and Israel stood on a mountain on tht 
other side; a?id there was a valley between them " (1 Sam. xvii. 1, 
et sea.) We saw the positions of the two armies at a single 
glance. The Philistines were ranged along the side of the ridge 
at Shocoh, and the Israelites occupied the declivity opposite. 
Between them lay the valley, — then called Elah, from its 
" terebinth " trees ; and now Sumpt, from its " acacias." Down 
that left bank came Goliath, his brazen armour glittering in the 
sunbeams ; down the opposite bank came David with his sling 
and staff. Reaching the torrent-bed he selected " five smooth 
stones," and put them in his scrip. " Am I a dog," cried the 
haughty Philistine, looking at David's boyish face and simple 
equipments, " that thou comest to me with staves ?" "I come 
to thee," replied the youth, " in the name of the Lord of Hosts, 
the God of Israel, whom thou hast defied." The stone was 
fixed ; the sling was whirled round by a skilful hand ; with a 
sharp twang the missile flew and pierced the brain of the im- 
pious giant. His own sword did the rest. According to the 
custom of the time, David took the head and the spoils of his 
foe, and carried them back to his comrades. The Philistines 
fled in confusion ; and the Israelites raising a shout of triumph 
hurried away in pursuit. 

I too went down into that torrent-bed, as near as I could 
judge to the spot where David "chose the five smooth stones," 
and I brought away " a smooth stone," which I still retain as a 
memorial of the battle-field, and of one of the happiest days of 
my life. Then turning from the Valley of Elah, and from 
border land, I struck up the rugged path that leads over the 



220 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



mountains to Hebron ; and thus ended my ride through the 
land of the Philistines. That ride, with another along a 
different route made at a later period, gave me a clearer under- 
standing of some of the most interesting episodes in Scripture 
history, than I could ever have obtained otherwise. The early 
intercourse of the patriarchs with the Philistine lords, the cam- 
paign of Joshua, the restoration of the ark, the romantic story 
of Samson, and the brilliant victory of David, became, when 
read on the scenes of action, glowing life pictures. Nowhere 
else in all my wanderings through Bible lands did the harmony 
between the Land and the Book appear more striking, more 
perfect, than in the plain of Philistia. 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 




I. 



Sjjanrn mttr CarnuL 

" The glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon : they 
shall see the glory of the Lord, and the excellency of our God." — Is A. xxxv. 2. 

HARON and Carmel are enshrined in sacred poetry. 
In addition to the holy associations that cluster^ round 2 
them as scenes of Bible history, they bring up before 
the mind's eye plains spangled with "the rose of Sharon," 
meadows powdered with " the lily of the valley," uplands 
waving with " forests," and mountains crowned with " the excel- 
lency of Carmel." Nor are one's glowing expectations much 
disappointed when he traverses Sharon, or climbs the heights of 
Carmel in early spring. The plain stretches out before him as 
far as the eye can follow it, in gentle undulations of luxuriant 
pasture, varied here and there by a clump of old forest trees, or 
a thicket of canes and shrubs -round a fountain, or a grey tell 
strewn with the ruins of some primeval city. And the mountain 
chain rises in easy slopes, wooded from base to summit; seamed 
by many a glen, and broken by many a cliff. The curse has 
fallen lightly upon Sharon and Carmel. Still it is true that the 
g^reat cities which once lined the sea-board are gone. The 
restless waves dash in sheets of foam over the ingulphed ruins 
of its once famous harbours. Dor and Csesarea, Hepha and 
Athlit, are no more. Towns and villages which thickly studded 
in ancient days inland plain and mountain side, are gone too. 
Corn fields, olive groves, and vineyards are now few and far 
between j and even the pastures are deserted save by the flocks 




224 



GALILEE AND THE SEA- CO AST. 



of a few poor nomads. Notwithstanding the grass, and the 
flowers, and the beauty of Sharon, it "is like a wilderness." 
"Its highways lie waste, the wayfaring man ceaseth" (Isa. 
xxxiii. 9). And notwithstanding Carmel's waving woods and 
green forest glades, it has " shaken off its fruit," — the fruit of 
human industry. The mountain still deserves its ancient name, 
" the fruitful." The "excellency {beauty) of Carmel" is yet 
conspicuous ; but even there, in the loveliest glades and richest 
dells, solitude keeps unbroken sabbath, 

SOUTHERN SHARON. 

My first view of Sharon was from the sea. From the vessel's 
deck I looked with as much eagerness as an old Crusader on the 
white strand, and the sandy downs, and the broad plain, shut 
in on the east by the blue hills of Samaria. The cape of 
Carmel was far behind me, dipping gracefully, but not so 
"bluff" as is usually represented in pictures, into the Medi- 
terranean. Away far ahead a little white rounded hill began to 
rise slowly from a flat coast. "What hill is that 1 ?" I asked of 
the French officer at my side." " That is Joppa." " And those 
ruins we passed some time ago, which you can yet see yonder 
glittering in the sun — what are they ?" " The ruins of Caesarea," 
was the reply. Historic names are wonderfully suggestive. 
Especially so when connected with sacred history, and when 
the eye first rests on the places to which they are attached. 
Memory then becomes a diorama. It brings before us the great 
events of other ages. So it was with me. In succession I saw 
the ships of Hiram conducting rafts of cedar and pine along the 
sea to Joppa for Solomon's Temple. I saw the great merchant 
vessel of Adramyttium leaving the harbour of Caesarea, while 
on its deck stood the Apostle of the Gentiles, guarded by 
Roman soldiers, and with fettered hands waving a final adieu 
to weeping friends. I saw the proud galleys of the Crusaders 
bearing down upon the shore, crowded with mail-clad knights, 



JOPPA. 



225 



Europe's best and bravest warriors, bent on the recovery of the 
Holy Sepulchre. And then, when the picture vanished, my eye 
retsed on deserted harbours, ruined cities, a dreary desolate 
shore, silent alike to the bustle of commerce and the din of 
battle ; as if to show that while man is mortal, his glory fleet- 
ing, and all his works perishable, God's Word is true and can 
never fail. Five and twenty centuries ago that Word pro- 
nounced the doom of Palestine : " I beheld, and, lo, the fruitful 
place (Hebrew, Carmel) wa,s a wilderness, and all the cities thereof 
were broken down at the presence of the Lord, and by his fierce 
anger. For thus hath the Lord said, The whole land shall be 
desolate" (Jer. iv. 26). 

I landed at Jofifia, a bustling town of five thousand inhabitants, 
beautifully situated on the western slope of a hill, looking down 
into the blue waters of the Mediterranean. It is still the port 
of Jerusalem; but it has no harbour, and it is only under 
favourable circumstances of wind and weather a vessel can ride 
at the distance of a mile or so from the shore. Guided by a 
young Jew I went at once to " the house of Simon the tanner." 
The house is modern, but it probably occupies the old site, for 
its Mohammedan owner considers it sacred. It stands " by 
the sea-side," as St. Luke tells us (Acts x. 6) ; and from its roof 
— " flat " now as in ancient times — I looked out on that same 
boundless sea on which the apostle must have looked when " he 
went up upon the house-top to pray." The hour too was the 
same — " the sixth hour," or noon. There was something deeply 
impressive in being thus brought as it were into immediate con- 
nection with that wondrous vision which the Lord employed as 
a key to open the Gentile world to Christ's Gospel. 

*From Simon's house I went through crooked streets to the 
top of the hill. The way was not pleasant, but the glorious 
view amply repaid me. On the land side Joppa is girt about 
with its orchards — the finest in Palestine, and, perhaps, unsur- 
passed in the world. Away beyond them spreads out a bound- 



226 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



less plain : on the north Sharon, and on the south Philistia, 
My eye soon caught and followed the line of the old road which 
winds northward along the coast to Caesarea. That was the 
road by which the apostle Peter went on his divine mission to 
Cornelius, (Acts x.) Lydda was hid behind a rising ground ; 
but the mountains of Judah were sharply defined against the 
bright eastern sky, and their colouring was beautiful — shaded 
off from soft greyish blue to deep purple. 

To procure horses and a guide was a work of time and 
trouble, and the afternoon was far advanced ere I rode out of 
the crowded gate of Joppa. How pleasant was the change 
from the heat and dust of the narrow streets to the freedom and 
freshness of the country ! It was autumn ; and never did 
autumn's richness appear to greater advantage than in these 
orchards of Sharon. Orange, lemon, and citron trees were 
there laden with golden fruit. Among them appeared the russet 
foliage and bright red globes of the pomegranate. Here and 
there the broad-leafed banana grew in wild luxuriance, shut in 
by tall hedges and impenetrable thickets of cactus ; while ever 
and anon palm trees shot up far overhead, as if to show the great 
clusters of dates that hung round their tapering necks, or to en- 
tice the soft evening breezes to sport with their feathery foliage. 
~~ I took the road to Lydda — the same road by which Peter 
was brought to raise Dorcas from the dead, after he had, by his 
miraculous cure of Eneas, converted " all that dwelt in Lydda 
and Sarong (the Greek form of Sharon , Acts ix. 34, seq.) For 
more than an hour I rode through those shady, fragrant orchards, 
and then crossed the grey monotonous plain to Lydda. Thence 
I went to the ancient Gimzo (2 Chron. xxviii. 18), now a poor 
village, and onward to the pass of Beth-horon, up which I 
wound my way -to Gibeon and Jerusalem. The southern end 
of Sharon, which I thus crossed, measures about fifteen miles; 
while the length of the plain from Joppa to Carmel is nearly 
fifty. In addition to Joppa and Lydda, there are ten or twelve 



SAMARIA. 



221 



villages in this part of the plain, and small portions of the rich 
soil are cultivated by their inhabitants ; but further north the 
country is almost deserted. 

NORTHERN SHARON. 

We halted at the western gate of Samaria, waiting for one or 
two stragglers, and to take a last look at the place. The gate 
is a shapeless heap of ruins, forming the termination of the well- 
known colonnade. I was never more deeply impressed with 
the minute accuracy of prophetic description, and the literal 
fulfilment of every detail, than when standing on that spot. 
Samaria occupied one of the finest sites in Palestine, — a low, 
rounded hill, in the centre of a rich valley, encircled by pic- 
turesque mountains. Temples and palaces once adorned it, 
famed throughout the East for the splendour of their architec- 
ture. But the destroyer has passed over it. I saw that long 
line of broken shafts with the vines growing luxuriantly round (%, 
their bases — I saw a group of columns in a corn-field on 
the hill-top — I saw hewn and sculptured blocks of marble and 
limestone in the rude walls of the terraced vineyards — I saw 
great heaps of stones and rubbish among the olive groves in the 
bottom of the valley far below — but I saw no other trace of the 
city founded by Omri and adorned by Herod. One would 
think the prophet Micah had seen that desolate site as I saw 
it, his description is so graphic : — " I will make Samaria as an 
heap of the field, and as plantings of a vineyard; and I will 
pour doiun the stones thereof into the valley, and I will discover the 
foundations thereof (Micah i. 6). 

Our road — a mere goat-track — led down the hill side through 
fields of ripe grain, in which the reapers were at work, though 
it was still early in May. We soon entered Wady Shair, a pro- 
longation of the fertile and beautiful valley which separates 
Ebal and Gerizim, and at the head of which stands Nabulus, 
the modern representative of Shechem. Down it wound our long 



228 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



cavalcade, through corn-fields and olive groves, and past thresh- 
ing-floors already heaped up with the fruits of the early harvest. 
I observed with interest how masters and servants were there 
grouped together — the sheikh in his scarlet mantle, and the stal- 
wart fellah in his coat of many colours. Women and children 
too were there, and cooking utensils, and beds, showing that 
the harvest scenes of modern days among the villages of Pales- 
tine are just the same as those we read of in the Book of Ruth. 

After a three hours' march we defiled from the valley into 
the plain of Sharon. Up among the mountains where the val- 
ley was narrow, and the declivities steep and rugged, nearly 
every available spot was cultivated, and populous villages 
appeared on each side. Here, on looking over the broad 
fertile plain, not a human habitation was visible, and only a 
few patches of the soil near the base of the mountains were 
under culture. Vineyards and olive groves have disappeared. 
Traces of the Roman road which once connected the great 
cities of Caesarea and Sebaste are there, but it is overgrown with 
thistles and rank grass; and in a ride of four hours we did not 
see a solitary traveller, — so true is it that " the highways lie 
waste, and the wayfaring man ceaseth." 

We turned north-west along the base of the mountains. On 
our right, perched on hill top or standing on rocky slope, were 
a few small half-ruinous villages ; while, on our left, out upon 
the plain, we saw at long intervals little circlets of black tents. 
This is border land, between plain and mountain, between tent 
and house, between industrious villagers and wandering vaga- 
bonds, whose hands, like those of their forefathers, are " against 
every man." 

We found our tents pitched at Bakah, a populous village on 
the side of the plain. Its inhabitants are rich, well armed, and 
powerful. They wage an unceasing warfare with the Bedawin 
who infest Sharon, and by their courage, watchfulness, and rifles, 
they manage to keep them at a respectful distance. We were 



DANGEROUS TRAVELLING. 



229 



no little amused to find that the escort we had brought from the 
Governor of Nabulus would not advance an inch beyond Bakah. 
So far the road was perfectly safe, and so far the soldiers 
guarded us; but the plain westward swarmed with Bedawin, 
among whom the soldiers would not venture, and consequently, 
pocketing their bakshish, they returned in peace to their com- 
mander. 

From Bakah I found it impossible to obtain either guide or 
escort to Caesarea. There is a standing blood-feud between its 
people and the Hawara Arabs, who roam over the intervening 
plain. But I arranged with the village sheikh to conduct our 
party to a neutral tribe, with whom he assured us an arrange- 
ment could be effected. He did not fail to advise us, however, 
to turn back into the mountains, and proceed northward by a less 
dangerous route. This did not suit my plans; but as some 
ladies had joined my party, I thought it necessary to inform 
them and their companions of the true state of matters, and to 
show them how they might escape all danger by taking another 
route. In reply, they asked me if I intended to go to Caesarea. 
" Most assuredly," I said. " Then we shall go too." 

Our party mustered at sun-rise, and set out at once, led by 
two sheikhs splendidly mounted, and armed with tufted lances, 
carabines, and pistols. The caravan had a formidable look. 
Every rifle was unsiung. The muleteers and servants, with 
their guns on their shoulders, kept close together in the centre, 
while a few active villagers brought up the rear. We numbered 
about forty animals, and as many men. Recent disturbances 
among the Arab tribes made the road unusually dangerous; and 
as our friends of Bakah had, only two days previously, killed 
three of a plundering party of Sukrs, they were now apprehen- 
sive of an attack in greater force. For the first half hour we 
traversed the cultivated fields of Bakah, and then entered a 
wild rugged district. Low rocky spurs project from the moun- 
tains into the plain, sprinkled with oak trees, and covered with 



23° GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 

dense jungles of thorns and thistles — such thistles as are only 
seen in Palestine, often as tall as a man on horseback. We 
had gone but a short distance when one of our leaders raised 
a cry- of alarm. I galloped to the front, and saw a number of 
Bedawin lurking among the trees. Fortunately the path was 
tolerably wide. We drew up the horsemen on each side, 
placed the ladies and baggage animals in the centre, and then 
marched in military order. It was an anxious moment. We 
knew not at what point the enemy might assail us, or in what 
force they might come. For about an hour we advanced 
through the tangled thicket cautiously and silently. Then, 
with feelings of relief, we denied into the open plain, and rode 
over it half a mile to a large fountain. 

The scene ^round this fountain was thoroughly oriental. A 
tribe of semi-nomads were assembled on their threshing-floors, 
all busily engaged in the various details of " treading out the 
corn," winnowing, and carrying off the grain to subterranean 
magazines. Every man had his gun within reach. Some were 
driving the oxen with muskets slung on their shoulders and 
pistols in their belts. Women were there too — bold, stalwart 
women, whose look and mien reminded one of Deborah and 
Jael — armed with heavy clubs, partly intended to help their 
husbands in case of attack, and partly to toss up the grain and 
straw on the " floors." A number of horsemen, acting as patrols, 
scoured the neighbouring heights to give timely notice of an 
enemy. The moment we emerged from the oak forests the 
patrols galloped in, and the men and women prepared, with a 
skill and quickness that would have done credit to regular 
troops, for defending their position. 

Our Bakah escort could conduct us no farther. The out- 
posts of the Hawara and Sukr were not far distant. We were 
consequently delivered over to this neutral tribe. After much 
difficulty and long negotiation, we succeeded in persuading two 
footmen to guide us to Caesarea. We had to abandon all idea 



ADVENTURE WITH BED A WIN. 231 

of an escort, for we were plainly told that we must defend our- 
selves in case of attack, and that the guides would not interfere 
in any quarrel. Before parting, the guides very deliberately 
proceeded to divest themselves of every decent bit of clothing 
they possessed; even guns, and pistols, and daggers were laid 
aside. Retaining each a tattered shirt, and a bit of rag for a 
turban, they took a couple of clubs from the women, and led 
us on. 

We set out due west, through corn-fields recently reaped. In 
a quarter of an hour all cultivation ceased. The plain ex- 
tended away before us, not flat, but in graceful undulations, 
covered with rank grass, and weeds, and tall thistles. Clumps 
of trees were studded here and there over it. Away on the 
left, about two miles distant, was the long dark line of an oak 
forest shutting in the view, while about an equal distance on 
the right were the roots of Carmel shooting down into the plain 
in picturesque wooded promontories. The whole landscape 
reminded me of some of the noble parks of Old England. 
The only living creatures in sight for miles were some flocks of 
gazelles. 

There was no path, and no impediment, and so we rode 
straight forward to the white sand hills faintly visible on the 
horizon. We had got about half-way, when, on topping a rising 
ground, we found before us a depression or valley, all cultivated. 
Here a number of men were at work ; — some gathering in the 
newly-reaped grain, some on the threshing-floors with yokes of 
oxen, some tending herds of cattle, and a goodly number on 
horseback scouring the surrounding country. Our sudden ap- 
pearance created a great commotion. The size of our party, 
the glittering of our arms, and our warlike aspect, made them 
believe that a Bedawy Ghuzu was upon them. The workmen 
fled, the shepherds drove in the cattle, the horsemen galloped 
round, urging them on with their spears ; and in a very few 
minutes they were all concentrated on a little knoll, prepared 



232 GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 

for defence. We passed half a mile to the south of the gathering- 
place j but here we unwittingly cut off a small party of some 
seven or eight men, engaged with their harvest in a retired 
glen. On seeing us they fled, leaving donkeys, and oxen, and 
even clothes, as they believed, at the mercy of the spoilers. 
Riding onwards at a sharp pace, we entered a valley, where we 
halted for a few minutes to examine an old building, apparently 
a fortified caravanserai. While scattered about the ruins, we 
were startled by a wild shout, and, looking up, we saw a party 
of Hawara dashing down upon us at full gallop. A word was 
given, and in a moment we drew together, formed a line in 
front of the ladies, and prepared to give the Arabs a warm 
reception should they venture on an attack. Our bold front, 
and the sight of a formidable file of English rifles, cooled their 
ardour. They reined up, and looked steadily at us, as if trying 
to note a single sign of wavering or fear. While standing there 
they formed as wild and picturesque a group as ever peaceful 
pilgrims encountered, or wandering artist sketched. Their 
lances poised high overhead, the bright steel points glittering 
in the midst of black tufts of feathers — their arms and legs bare 
— their hair streaming in long plaited locks over breast and 
shoulders — their faces bronzed, and their eyes flashing with 
excitement — and their noble horses, with curved neck and ex- 
panded nostril, more eager for the fray even than their riders. 
We could not but admire those wild children of the desert, 
worthy representatives of their progenitor Ishmael. 

While the balance hung between peace and war, the ladies, 
with a coolness and a " pluck " that would have done honour 
to veteran campaigners, were quietly passing remarks on the 
proud bearing and strange costume of the Bedawin ; and one 
of them — a daughter of the most distinguished prelate that ever 
adorned the Irish Church — took out her book and pencil to 
sketch the scene. I shall never forget the astonished look of 
the Hawara chief, as he exclaimed, on seeing this act, "By 



RUINS OF CjESAREA. 



233 



the life of the Prophet ! the Englishwoman is writing us 
down !" 

The courage of the ladies produced apparently as powerful 
an effect as the sight of our rifles and revolvers. But be this as 
it may, the Hawara thought discretion the better part of valour. 
Shouting a friendly Salamu aleikum — "Peace be with you !" — 
they wheeled round their horses and galloped off. We watched 
their movements, fearing that they might return in greater force. 
But we saw them strike off northward, until, coming upon a 
couple of poor fishermen on the banks of the Crocodile River, 
they seized them, and left them, in point of costume, precisely 
as the thieves left the man who " went down from Jerusalem to 
Jericho." 

Such is modern life on the plain of Sharon. " No flesh has 
peace " there. Those who venture to till the soil must guard 
the fruit of their labours with the sword, and even risk life to 
save property. "Sharon is a wilderness," and through that 
wilderness the " spoilers now come upon all high places " (Jer. 
xii. 12). 

CAESAREA. 

We were just two hours and a half in crossing the plain, and 
it was not yet noon when we entered the southern or Joppa 
gate of Caesarea. Caesarea was the capital of Palestine in the 
days of the apostles \ it was the favourite residence of that 
Herod who " killed James the brother of John with the sword;" 
and it was the scene of the tyrant's awful death, recorded in 
Acts xii. 21-23. The city was closely connected with the 
early history of the Apostolic Church. Philip, after baptizing 
the Ethiopian eunuch, passed through Philistia and Sharon, 
"preaching in all the cities, till he came to Caesarea" (Acts 
viii. 26-40). Peter here first preached the gospel to Gentiles, 
and here he baptized Cornelius, the first Gentile convert (x. 47). 
It was to Caesarea Paul was brought a prisoner from Jerusalem. 
It was in the palace in this city he so spake of " righteousness, 



234 



GALILEE AND THE SEA- CO AST. 



temperance, and judgment to come," that he made Felix 
tremble. It was here the power of his logic forced King 
Agrippa to exclaim, "Almost thou persuadest me to be a 
Christian." And it was from this harbour he embarked on his 
long and eventful voyage to Rome (Acts xxiii. 33 ; xxiv. 25 ; 
xxvi. 28 ; xxvii. 1, 2). Here Eusebius, the father of ecclesias- 
tical history, spent nearly his whole life, having been bishop of 
the diocese for a quarter of a century (a.d. 315-340). Here, 
too, Procopius was born in the beginning of the sixth century. 
The city was thus the home of two of the greatest historians of 
antiquity. 

In passing through the gate of Csesarea, I felt that I was 
indeed entering a "holy and historic place;" and I envy not 
the Christian or the scholar who could tread that site and look 
on those ruins without experiencing such a sense of mingled 
awe and reverence, and inspiring sympathy, as is ever awakened 
in the mind by the immediate presence of the great and the 
good. In only a very few other cities of Palestine was I so 
deepiy impressed, so strangely and powerfully excited, by the 
religio loci. The profound silence, the utter desolation, the 
total absence of every sign of human life, left me alone, as it 
were, with the sacred associations and stirring memories of the 
past. The gate by which Peter entered was there ; the ruins 
of the palace in which Paul preached were there ; the remains 
of the harbour in which he embarked were there ; the massive 
fragments of Eusebius' church were there ; the walls which the 
brave Crusaders built were there. Every great event in the 
sacred and civil history of the city was localized, and fancy 
grouped again the old actors on the old scenes. 

The ruins of Cassarea lie close along the winding shore, pro- 
jecting here and there into the sea, and presenting huge masses 
of shattered masonry and piles of granite columns to the rest- 
less waves. In the interior all is ruin. Not a building remains 
•entire. Not even the foundations of a building can be fully 



DESOLA TION. 



2 35 



traced. Heaps of stones and rubbish, here a solitary column, 
there a disjointed arch, yonder a fragment of a wall — all en- 
compassed or overgrown with thorns, and briars, and thistles, 
intermixed in spring with myriads of yellow marigolds and 
scarlet poppies. The famous harbour is choked up with sand 
and rubbish ; and the great mole now forms that picturesque 
group of broken, sea-beaten masonry, which projects far into 
the sea, and constitutes the most striking feature in the well- 
known sketches of Bartlett, Tipping, and others. I wandered 
for hours among the ruins of Csesarea. The sighing of the 
wind among the broken walls, the deep moan of the sea as 
each wave broke upon the cavernous ruins of the ancient 
harbour, were the only sounds I heard. I saw no man. The 
Arab and the shepherd avoid the spot. The very birds and 
beasts seem to shun it. The only living creature I saw during 
my stay was a jackal in one of the crypts of the cathedral. 

Eight miles north of Cassarea is Tantura, a small village, built 
on an open sandy beach. Near it are the ruins of the ancient 
city of Dor, whose ruler was an ally of Jabin, King of Hazor, 
and one of the opponents of Joshua (Josh. xi. i, 2). We en- 
camped for the night on the site, and next morning rode north- 
ward along the shore to Carmel. The only place we passed 
worthy of note was the massive and picturesque fortress of 
Athlit, built on a rock which juts out into the sea. The 
Crusaders called it Castellum Peregrinorum, " Pilgrim's Castle," 
because it was a favourite landing-place for pilgrims on their 
way to the Holy City. Near it I observed an old road hewn 
through a cliff; and in its rocky floor the chariots have worn 
deep ruts, which reminded me of those in the streets of 
Pompeii. 

CARMEL. 

The good monks of the Convent of Carmel gave us a cordial 
welcome; and their neat rooms and clean beds formed real 
luxuries, which those only can fully appreciate who have spent 



236 



GALILEE AND THE SEA- COAST. 



weeks in camp-life. One of the sweetest retreats, one of the 
most charming resting-places for the pilgrim in Palestine, is 
the Convent of Mount Carmel. Here is a house that would 
not disgrace royalty; here are men whose intelligence and 
genial bonhomie even a cowl cannot cover; here is air cool and 
bracing during the hottest summer day; and here is a noble 
site, looking away out over the deep blue sea, commanding the 
classic shores of Phoenicia, and showing the snow-crowned peaks 
of Lebanon and Hermon over the " excellency of Carmel." 

Carmel has many attractions for the naturalist, the antiquarian, 
and the classical scholar, as well as for the student of the Bible. 
Its ridge, descending on one side into the rich plain of Acre, 
and on the other, to the green vale of Dor or Sharon, contains 
some of the most pleasing, park-like scenery in Palestine. The 
wood that clothes it is chiefly prickly oak, a beautiful evergreen j 
so that while the "excellency of Carmel" (Isa. xxxv. 2) might 
well be regarded as a type of natural beauty, the " withering " 
of its foliage (Amos i. 2 ; Isa. xxxiii. 9) ought to be considered 
as an emblem of national desolation. The forest glades of Car- 
mel are spangled with flowers of every hue. The thickets abound 
in game, and are also infested with wolves, hyenas, and leopards. 

The sides of the mountain near the convent are filled with 
caves and grottoes, which formed the abodes of hermits in ancient 
days. The largest of these is called the " Cave of the Prophets," 
because Elijah is said to have received the chiefs of the people 
there. It is a plain, rock-hewn chamber, with Greek names 
and inscriptions on the walls. In the fields below it great 
numbers of stones may be seen, which resemble melons and 
olives. The former are flints, with beautiful sparry matter 
inside ; and the latter are good specimens of the fossil echinus. 

SCENE OF ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. 

Carmel is chiefly celebrated as the scene of Elijah's sacrifice. 
The exact spot is marked by local tradition, by the agreement 



SCENE OF ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE, 



237 



of its physical features with the Scripture narrative, and by its 
name, el-Muhrakah, " The Sacrifice." It is about six hours' 
ride from the convent, over the crest of the ridge. I visited it 
from the Plain of Esdraelon, on the opposite or eastern side. 
It is on the brow of the mountain, and commands the whole 
plain to Jezreel and Tabor. Close to the base of the range, 
below the spot, flows the river Kishon, where the prophets of 
Baal wasr slain; and just above the spot is a projecting peak, 
from which Elijah's servant saw the "little cloud, like a man's 
hand, rising out of the sea," (1 Kings xviii.) 

Another episode of Bible history I read with new interest in 
this place. Elisha was here when the Shunamite's son died. 
Looking down one afternoon from his commanding position, 
he saw her "afar off" on the plain. He sent his servant to 
meet her; but she pressed up the mountain side "to the man 
of God." Dismounting hastily, she threw herself on the ground 
before him, "and caught him by the feet" — just as an Arab 
woman would still do under similar circumstances. Elisha, on 
hearing her tale of sorrow, sent away Gehazi with his staff to 
raise the dead child; but she, with all a mother's earnestness, 
exclaimed, " As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, I will 
not leave thee. And he rose and followed her," (2 Kings iv.) 

Carmel was the favourite retreat of both Elijah and Elisha. 
In the stirring times in which they lived, it was a fitting place 
for the prosecution of the great work of reform for which they 
laboured and prayed. It was central in position, and easy of 
access from all parts of Palestine. It afforded in its deep dells 
and dense thickets sufficient privacy for such as wished to pay 
secret visits to the men of God; and it offered a secure asylum 
to all compelled to flee from the persecutions of the idolatrous 
Ahab, and the cruelties of the infamous Jezebel. The situation 
of el-Muhrakah also struck me as peculiarly suitable for the 
head-quarters of the prophets. It could only be reached by a 
•long and steep ascent. No man could approach it unseen j and 
(io) 16 



GALILEE AND TILE SEA- CO AST. 



any hostile party would be visible at a great distance. Beside 
it is a well with an unfailing spring, and upon it are the remains 
of a massive ancient building. 

Sitting on that commanding height, on a bright spring even- 
ing, I felt persuaded I was upon the scene of Elijah's great 
sacrifice. Beside and under me were probably the very stones 
of which God's altar was built, and over which played the 
heavenly flame. A few paces beneath me was the well from 
which the water was drawn, that the prophet's servants poured 
upon the altar. Around me were the thickets from w T hich the 
wood was cut. Away at the foot of the mountain flowed the 
Kishon in its deep bed, which on that day ran red with the 
blood of Jehovah's enemies. There, stretching out before me, 
was the plain across which Ahab dashed in his chariot; and 
yonder, on its eastern border, I saw the little villages which 
mark the sites and still bear the names of Jezreel and Shunem. 
Is it strange that when one thus visits the " holy and historic 
places of Palestine" the grand events of Bible history should 
appear to be enacted over again, and should become to him 
living realities ? 



" Land of fair Palestine, where Jesus trod, 
Thy ruins and thy relics tell of God : 
Thine everlasting hills with awe proclaim 
The holy records of Jehovah's name : 
Thy fallen cities, crumbled into dust, 
Pronounce the judgment of Jehovah just." 




IT. 




Surely as Tabor is among the mountains, and as Carmel by the sea, so shall he come." 
— Jer. xlvi. 18. 

jABOR is the traditional " Mount of Transfiguration." 
Were it the real scene of that wondrous event, it 
would yield in interest to none of Palestine's " Holy 
Places." But the tradition is questionable, and sacred topo- 
graphy is opposed to it. Yet it can lay claim to a venerable 
antiquity, for Jerome, in the fourth century, when making his 
pilgrimage with the saintly Paula, says, " She ascended Tabor, 
on which the Lord was transfigured." Jerome's words and 
monkish superstition have canonized the mountain. Churches 
have been built upon it, pilgrimages have been made to it, and 
for fifteen centuries it has been honoured as one of the shrines 
of the Holy Land. 

But independent of apocryphal tradition and monkish super- 
stition, Tabor holds rank among Palestine's celebrated moun- 
tains. Gilead and Pisgah, Olivet and Carmel, Tabor and 
Hermon, are all honoured names in sacred story. In olden 
days of Canaanitish Baal-worship Tabor was a " high place;" 
and the northern tribes appear, in this case as in many others, 
to have forgotten the divine command, " Ye shall utterly destroy 
all the places wherein the nations which ye shall possess served 
their gods, upon the high mountains, and upon the hills " (Deut. 
xii. 2; compare 2 Kings xvii. 9-12). They 'appear to have 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



erected altars and images upon Tabor; and hence the force 
and pointedness of Hosea's accusation, — "Hear ye this, O 
priests ; and hearken, ye house of Israel; and give ye ear, O 
house of the king; for judgment is toward you, because ye have 
been a snare on Mizpeh, and a net spread upon Tabor" (v. i). 
The people were there deceived and ensnared by the idolatrous 
practices of their leaders. 

And Tabor was the gathering-place of the northern tribes in 
time of danger or war. For this, as I shall show, both its 
position and its natural features admirably fitted it. Here 
Deborah ordered Barak to concentrate his army to oppose 
Sisera : " Go and draw toward mount Tabor, and take with thee 
ten thousand men of the children of Naphtali and of the 
children of Zebulun" (Judges iv. 6). Here, too, some of 
Israel's warriors had been attacked and slain by the host of 
Midian, before Gideon's victory. Gideon asked Zebah and 
Zalmunna, " What manner of men were they whom ye slew at 
Tabor? And they answered, As thou art, so were they: each 
one resembled a king" (Judges viii. 18). Even before the 
conquest, it would seem that the great Lawgiver's prophetic eye 
had been fixed upon Tabor, when he said of Zebulun and 
Issachar, " They shall call the people unto the mountain; there 
they shall offer sacrifices of righteousness" (Deut. xxxiii. 19). 

ASCENT OF TABOR. 

It was on the 8th of May, at noon, in a flood of glorious sun- 
shine, I first approached the northern base of Tabor. At 
intervals, during the two preceding days, I had seen it from the 
heights of Naphtali and the banks of the upper Jordan. Now 
that it was before me, I was disappointed. There is nothing of 
majesty in its elevation, nor of grandeur in its scenery, that would 
at all make it rival Hermon or Lebanon. Its shape and partial 
isolation are striking, but nothing more. The point from which 
I got the most pleasing view was beside the ruins of Khan et- 



SCENERY OF TABOR. 



241 



Tujjar, two miles to the north. The intervening ground was 
table-land, with a gently undulating surface, and belts of plan- 
tation, and clumps of trees, and vistas of green turf bordered 
with shrubbery, like an English park. Over it, to the height of 
twelve hundred feet or more, rose Tabor; in shape a segment 
of a sphere; its sides and regularly curved top all sprinkled 
with evergreen oaks and terebinths. It is undoubtedly the 
most conspicuous hill in Central Palestine — not from its altitude, 
for there are others much higher, but from its isolated position, 
unique shape, and unfading verdure. When first seen from the 
north, as I saw it, its curved outline breaks the dull monotony 
of the hills of Galilee. When first seen from the south, it is 
still more imposing. Then it swells up like a vast dome from 
the plain of Esdraelon; and in the richness of its foliage, and 
delicate green of its forest glades, it presents a pleasing contrast 
to the brown rocky summits of Ephraim, and the bare white 
crowns of Judah. 

My path led through a widespread camp of Nomads, "children 
of the east," who had come here in early spring, like the Midi- 
anites of old, to devour the luxuriant pastures of Palestine. 
They were a wild and a lawless race, and I felt that to pass 
them in safety would require some little tact. I rode boldly 
to the nearest tent, and asked for water. A large bowl of milk 
was handed to me by an Arab girl; bread, too, was offered, of 
which I ate a small quantity. I was now their guest, under 
their protection, freed from all danger of attack on person or 
property. I demanded a guide, or rather an escort, for the way 
was plain enough, to the foot of Tabor. The girl conducted 
me to the tent of the sheikh, which was pitched under the shade 
of a noble oak. He was not at home ; but his son, a fine-look- 
ing boy of fifteen, leaped on the back of a beautiful mare that 
stood ready saddled, and, seizing the spear which was stuck in 
the ground at the tent door, told me to follow him. 

My little guide led me to the western base of Tabor, within 



242 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



sight of the village of Deburieh, which nestles in a quiet nook 
on the side of the great plain. There he wheeled round, waved 
a polite adieu, and was out of sight in a moment. I turned 
my horse's head up the zig-zag path that leads to the top of the 
hill; but soon, wearying of the windings, I left my horse in 
charge of my servant, and clambered up straight to the summit. 
It was a rash act. On my way I saw several jackals, and heard 
sundry barks and growls in the jungles as they scampered off, 
which made me feel somewhat uncomfortable. The summit is 
broad, strewn with ruins, and covered with thickets of dwarf 
oak and prickly shrubs. I entered a narrow opening, and was 
proceeding along a beaten track, when I was startled by a loud 
snort; and a huge boar, with head down and mane erect, brushed 
past me, and was followed by a sow and a litter of young. 
I scarce knew what to do. The place was quite different from 
what I had expected. As yet I could see nothing but thickets 
of ilex and heaps of ruins. I was thirsty, and thirst compelled 
me to run the risk of more encounters with the denizens of the 
jungle. After some time and trouble, I discovered water at the 
bottom of a large dark vault or cistern. A rude staircase once 
led down the side, but it was now in a great measure destroyed. 
I was resolved, however, to reach in some way the tempting 
fluid. Holding by an overhanging branch, I began the descent, 
when suddenly a panther bounded out from an obscure corner, 
and turning round, growled at me from the opposite side. I 
could do nothing except look steadily at the beautiful but 
dangerous creature. Gradually it shrunk back, and at length 
disappeared in a thicket. I was a good deal relieved when I 
heard the voice of my servant, and still more so when he came 
up and handed me my gun. 

In all that painful, fearful desolation on the top of Tabor, the 
finger of God was visible. Prophecy was fulfilled before my 
eyes. Every object I saw was an emblem and a result of the 
curse — ruins, thorns and thistles, wild beasts, a deserted strong- 



RUINS ON TABOR. 



243 



hold. What a commentary upon the words of the ancient 
prophets ! " I will destroy your high places. ..... I will make 

your cities waste, and bring your sanctuaries into desolation 

Upon the land of my people shall come up thorns and briars, yea, 
upon all the houses of joy in the joyous city; because the palaces 
shall be forsaken; the multitude of the city shall be left; the 
forts and towers shall be for dens" (Lev. xxvi. 30, 31 ; Isa. xxxii. 
13, 14). 

THE RUINS. 

The ruins on the summit of Tabor are extensive. The 
destroyer, however, has dealt so heavily with them, and they 
are so overgrown with thorns, and briars, and thistles, that any 
minute examination by a passing traveller is impossible. I 
spent the whole afternoon exploring, and since that time I spent 
an entire day among them, yet I was not satisfied. 

The top of the mount is a level, oval-shaped area, about a 
mile in circuit. Round it are the remains of a massive wall, 
outside which is a moat hewn in the rock. The foundations of 
the wall are colossal, and of the earliest type of Jewish masonry. 
Some of the towers are much more recent; and one gateway, 
still standing, has a pointed Saracenic arch, and an Arabic in- 
scription stating that the fortress was built, or more probably 
rebuilt, by Abubekr, brother of the renowned Saladin, in the year 
a.d. 1 2 10. Near the south-eastern angle I saw a little vault in 
which the Latin monks from Nazareth celebrate an annual mass, 
in honour of the Transfiguration. On the opposite side the 
.Greeks have their altar and sanctuary, and are in the habit, I 
was informed, of making a yearly pilgrimage to the spot and 
spending a day on the summit. But during my visits to Tabor, 
the mountain was deserted. Not a human being was there ; 
and not a vestige of anything like a permanent abode of man. 
I saw dead ashes and charred sticks, left there apparently by 
some passing traveller like myself. I was not even so fortunate 
as to meet the hermit of whom Dean Stanley tells such a 



244 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



romantic story; but if the panther I saw was that which is said 
to have been the constant companion of the old man, I fear his 
attempts to tame it had not been very successful. 

The top of Tabor was evidently the site of a city as well as 
of a sanctuary from a very early period. In fact its strong and 
commanding position could not fail to attract the notice of the 
warlike Canaanites. The city was allotted to Issachar (Josh, 
xix. 22); and it continued a place of note, not only throughout 
the whole period of Jewish history, but down to the close of 
the Crusades. 

The. view from Tabor possesses a far higher interest for the 
Bible student and the Christian pilgrim than its hoary and 
desolate ruins. It is one of those wondrous panoramas which 
time can never obliterate from the memory ; and whose striking 
features and vivid colouring, change can never dim. The notes 
I wrote on the mount are before me, but they are scarcely 
needed. I see the landscape now as I saw it then. On the 
north, Naphtali's brown peaks running in a serried ridge athwart 
the glowing sky. Further to the right a little corner of the Sea 
of Galilee, slumbering in its deep, deep bed, and the glittering 
top of Hermon towering over it like a guardian angel. On the 
east the long purple ridge of Gilead, rising like a colossal wall 
from the Jordan valley. On the south the plain of Esdraelon, 
Palestine's battle-field, sweeping round the base of the mount, 
and extending, a sea of verdure, away to the hills of Samaria, 
and the dark ridge of Carmel. In the distance, ranged along 
its opposite side, I saw dimly the isolated tells on which once 
stood the cities of Taanach, Megiddo, and Jokneam of Carmel. 
Directly facing me, four miles distant, beyond an eastern arm 
of the plain, rose " the hill Moreh," a grey, treeless ridge, with the 
villages of Endor and Nain upon its side. Over its left shoulder 
appeared the bare white top of Gilboa. Westward my eye wan- 
dered along the wooded heights of Galilee to the Great Sea, a sec- 
tion of which was visible beside the bold promontory of CarmeL 



BARAK AND DEBORAH. 



245 



Standing on this spot I was able to understand why Tabor 
was the gathering-place of the northern tribes. Connected by 
a wooded ridge with the hills of Galilee and mountains of 
Naphtali, it was always accessible to them; while at the same 
time it stood out commanding the plain of Esdraelon. Its 
steep sides were easily defended, and its broad top gave ample 
space for the organization of a little army of mountaineers. 
The plain below it was the centre of attraction for all invaders. 
Its pastures tempted the nomads of Arabia; its firm flat surface 
attracted the chariots and horsemen of Philistia, Canaan, and 
Syria. From the top of Tabor the light infantry of Israel could 
watch all their movements, and take advantage of any fitting 
opportunity for attack. The graphic story of Barak and Deborah 
was here brought vividly before my mind; — Barak eagerly 
watching the advance of Sisera across the plain; while Deborah, 
with the enthusiasm of a patriot, and the inspiration of a pro- 
phetess, looked and prayed to heaven for the signal to attack. 
At length her eye saw it, and she cried : " Up, for this is the 
day in which the Lord hath delivered Sisera into thine hand : 
is not the Lord gone out before thee?" (Judges iv. 14). 

The sun went down, and deep purple shadows fell upon plain 
and valley. The wild plaintive wail of jackals, mingled with 
the sharper howl of wolves, warned me to seek safer quarters. 
I mounted and rode slowly down to Deburieh. Here stood the 
Canaanitish Daborath, but it has long since disappeared, and 
the only remains of antiquity now are the walls of a mediaeval 
church. 

THE VALLEY OF JEZREEL. 

" I will break the bow of Israel in the valley of Jezreel" (Hos. 
i. 5). — The old city of Jezreel gave its name to one of the 
noblest plains of Palestine, and that name was afterwards soft- 
ened by the Greeks into the more familiar Esdraelon. Its 
position affords a key to its bloody history. It intersects 
Central Palestine, extending from the bay of Acre to the fords 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



of the Jordan. It was thus open to all invaders — to the Phil- 
istines from the coast, the Israelites from the east, and the 
Syrians from the north ; while at a later period it was the high- 
way along which passed and repassed the armies of Assyria and 
Egypt. Its wide-spread meadows and corn-fields, its luxuriant 
pastures and abundant waters courted rest, and gave ample space 
for military manoeuvres. The northern tribes watched the in- 
vaders from the top of Tabor, and the southern tribes had their 
gathering-place on the heights of Gilboa, or at the passes of 
Megiddo, according as the enemy came from the east or west. 

Issachar, to whom this plain was allotted, suffered more than 
all the other tribes. His was a hard lot. In the condition and 
history of the plain — open to every incursion, exposed to every 
shock of war — we see the fortunes of the tribe, and we have a 
melancholy commentary on the blessing of Jacob : " Issachar 
is a strong ass, couching down between two burdens ; and he 
saw that rest was good, and the land that it was pleasant ; and 
bowed his shoulder to bear, and became a servant unto tribute " 
(Gen. xlix. 14, 15). As the peasants do still who cultivate 
patches of Esdraelon, Issachar paid black-mail to the " children 
of the East." When the tribe saw the prowess of David, and 
his ability to protect Israel, their valuable possessions and ex- 
posed position made them anxious for his succession to the 
throne. And this explains the words of the sacred writer,— 
" Of the children of Issachar, which were men that had under 
standing of the times, to know what Israel ought to do" (1 Chron. 
xii. 32). 

The main part of Esdraelon is triangular in form. Its base 
on the east reaches from Engannim to Tabor, fifteen miles; and 
its apex is at the foot of Carmel, where the Kishon flows into 
the plain of Acre. From the base, however, three arms stretch 
out eastward, divided by two short parallel ridges. The northern 
arm lies between Tabor and the ridge of Moreh, and the central 
between the latter and Gilboa. These two extend down to the 



ENDOR AND NAIN. 



247 



Jordan. The third arm is on the south side of Gilboa, and is 
shut in on the east by the mountains of Ephraim. 

ENDOR. 

In the ruddy morning twilight I rode across the beautiful 
plain to Endor. It is a poor village of some twenty houses, 
perched on the bleak side of Moreh, about two hundred yards 
above the plain. The rocks ground it are pierced with caves — 
some natural, some artificial, as if the old inhabitants had been 
troglodytes. Above the village is one larger than the rest, the 
entrance to which is between high rocks, and is partly covered 
by the branches of a fig-tree. Within it is a fountain called 
'Ain Dor, " the fountain of Dor," which doubtless gave its name 
to the ancient as well as the modern village. Entering this 
gloomy grotto, and looking round on its dark riven sides, I felt fc) 
how suitable such a spot would be for the interview between 
Saul and the witch. 

NAIN. 

A pleasant ride of forty minutes along the hill-side brought me 
to Nain. It was by the very same path our Lord approached it, 
for he was on his way from Capernaum. It was with no little 
interest, therefore, I observed on my left, three or four hundred 
yards from the village, a group of rock tombs. Towards one of 
these probably the funeral procession was moving when He met 
and stopped it. How vividly did the whole scene appear to me 
now as I stood on the spot ! The procession issuing from the 
gate ; the men carrying the open bier ; the women behind 
grouped ^round the poor widow, and rending the air with their 
cries, as they do still. Another procession meets them. He 
who heads it looks with melting tenderness on the widow, and 
says, in accents that thrill her soul, "Weep not." He touches 
the bier. In mingled awe and astonishment the bearers stop. 
" Young man, I say nnto thee, Arise!" As the words are uttered 



248 GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 

the dead rises to life; and in a moment he is in the arms of his 
mother. 

Nain is a small village ; but the ruins round it show that ;it 
was much larger in olden times ; and it commands one of the 
finest views in Central Palestine. Beneath it the plain, beyond 
which rise the wooded hills of Galilee; and on the north the great 
flat dome of Tabor, with Hermon shooting up behind it on the 
distant horizon. From this place I first saw these two moun- 
tains in close perspective proximity, and I thought that perhaps 
it might have been some such view which suggested the 
Psalmist's words : " The north and the south thou hast created 
them; Tabor and Hermon shall rejoice in thy name" (lxxxix. 12). 

SHUNEM. 

The path from Nain to Shunem passes round the western 
slopes of Moreh. As I turned my back on Tabor the brown 
hills of Samaria came in sight, looking like a lower continuation 
of Carmel ; then Gilboa came into view, rising up white and 
bare from the centre of the beautiful green plain, and having 
the grey ruins of Jezreel at its western base. Sweeping round 
still to the left, I looked away down the middle arm of Esdrae- 
lon to the lofty tell on which the old city of Beth-shan stood, 
and beyond it to the picturesque range of Gilead. This is " the 
valley of Jezreel " properly so called, and the scene of some of 
the most momentous events in Jewish history. 

Shunem was now below me, situated in a little nook at the 
foot of the ridge, encircled by enclosed gardens and luxuriant 
fields of corn. I rode into it and dismounted at the fountain. 
The people were rude and almost hostile; but there was an air 
of sturdy independence about them, and of thrift and success 
about their houses and fields, that pleased me. A party of men 
and women were busy reaping in an adjoining barley field; and 
a number of little children were basking in the bright sunshine 
among the sheaves and stubble, all with bare heads, and a few 



GIDEON'S VICTORY. 



249 



of them stark naked. I sat down and read the story of the 
Shunemite, every detail of which assumed a life-like vividness. 
In the house of a great man — probably the sheikh — of that vil- 
lage Elisha was wont to lodge. One day his son — the child of 
promise — " went out to his father to the reapers," just as the 
children I saw now had gone out. But the heat was too much for 
him. The fatal sun stroke prostrated him. " My head, my head," 
he cried ; and when carried home to his mother, " he sat on her 
knees till noon, and died" (2 Kings iv. 8-20). The mother's 
journey across that plain to Carmel, and Elisha's miracle, are 
well known. 

Gideon's victory. 
The scene of one of the most glorious victories, and of one 
of the most disastrous defeats in the annals of Israel, was before 
me at Shunem. It was with no ordinary interest I proceeded 
to survey the battle-field, so as fully to understand the sacred 
narrative. When the " Midianites, and the children of the 
east," with their herds, numerous and destructive as locusts, 
invaded the land three thousand years ago, they pitched their 
tents on the north side of the valley of Jezreel, " by the hill of 
Moreh ;" while Gideon and his little band of warriors 
"pitched beside the well of Harod," on the south side, at 
the foot of Gilboa (Judges vi. 3, 30 ; vii. 1). The hill 
Moreh was there, rising up close behind Shunem. The 
camp of the Midianites lay along its base, probably extending 
from the fountain of Shunem down to Beth-shan. Mounting 
my horse I rode across the rich valley to Gideon's camp at the 
well of Harod. The distance is a little over three miles, and 
there is a slight descent the whole way. The well, or rather 
" fountain," for the Hebrew word is Am, springs from a wide 
excavation in the rocky root of Gilboa, and sends out a copious 
stream which forms a miniature lake, and then murmurs away 
down the vale. Gilboa rises over it in broken cliffs. Gideon's 
active followers had assembled upon the mountain ; and he, at 



250 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



God's command, " brought them down to the water " to test 
them (vii. 4) ; this done they again ascended (ver. 8). During 
the night Gideon " went down " with his servant to spy out the 
camp of the enemy (verses 9, 10). He heard the Midianite 
tell his dream; he knew thus that the Lord's time of deliverance 
was come ; and by his singular but effective stratagem, and un- 
expected assault, he struck terror into the host of the enemy, 
and they fled in wild disorder down the valley to the fords of 
the Jordan. For the first time I there saw how not only every 
detail of the battle was accurate, but how every incidental ex- 
pression of the sacred historian was illustrated by the topo- 
graphy of the battle-field. 

THE DEATH OF SAUL AND JONATHAN. 

Two centuries later the Philistines marched into the centre 
of Israel, and took up their position at Shunem, on the spot 
where the Midianites had encamped. Saul then gathered the 
tribes on the heights of Gilboa (1 Sam. xxviii. 4). Looking 
down from his commanding position on the warlike array, and 
the formidable war-chariots of the enemy, drawn up in the 
valley, Saul " was afraid, and his heart greatly trembled." 
Conscience made a coward of him, for he felt that he had for- 
gottenNGod, and that God had therefore forsaken him. The 
closing scene of Saul's life is sad and solemn. One's heart 
bleeds for the great man; and looking at him morally as well 
as physically, one is constrained to exclaim, " How are the 
mighty fallen ! " 

Forsaken by Heaven, he so far forgot himself as to seek 
counsel from the spirits of darkness. During the night he 
crossed the valley, passing along the east side of the Philistine 
army, and went over the shoulder of Moreh to Endor, where 
he visited the -witch. The distance is about seven miles, so 
that he must have travelled at least fourteen that night. 
Though wearied with the journey, and broken in spirit, he drew 



BA TTLE OF GILBOA. 



up his troops in the morning at the fountain of Harod. The 
position was badly chosen. The ground slopes down from 
Shunem, and the Philistines had thus all the advantage for 
attack; while both front and flanks of the Israelites were ex- 
posed, and flight all but impossible, owing to the steepness of 
the mountain behind. The Israelites were broken by the first 
impetuous charge of the enemy, and the slaughter was dreadful 
as they attempted to flee up Gilboa : " They fell down slain in 
Mount Gilboa. And the Philistines followed hard upon Saul 

and upon his sons And the battle went sore against Saul, 

and the archers hit him ; and he was sore wounded of the 
archers" (i Sam. xxxi. 1-3). David in his beautiful ode has 
brought out the peculiarity of the position : " The beauty of 

Israel is slain upon the high places How are the mighty 

fallen in the midst of the battle ! O Jonathan, thou wast slain 
in thine high places!" (2 Sam. i. 19, 25.) 

The stripping and mutilating of the slain, mentioned in the 
narrative, may seem to some inhuman, and almost incredible. 
Strange to say, it is characteristic of Arab warfare to this day. 
I myself saw a fearful example of it a few years ago, not many 
miles from this spot. During a journey through Palestine I 
witnessed a battle, or rather massacre of Kurds by Hawara 
Arabs. I visited the battle-field the day after; and there I 
found the ground strewn with corpses, all stripped, and some 
frightfully mutilated. Akeil Aga, and the ruffian horde that 
now follow him, are worthy representatives of the old Philis- 
tines. After that spectacle of human barbarity I read with more 
intense feelings of horror the closing scene of the battle of 
Gilboa : " And it came to pass on the morrow, when the Philis- 
ti?ies came to strip the slain, that they found Saul and his three 
sons fallen in Mount Gilboa. And they cut off his head, and 

stripped off his armour And they put his armour in the 

house of Ashtaroth ; and they fastetied his body to the wall of 
Bcth-shan" (1 Sam. xxxi. 8-10). 



252 GALILEE AND THE SEA- COAST. 

From the fountain of Harod I rode up an old path, hewn 
deeply in the rocky side of Gilboa. Looking upon that moun- 
tain — bleak, and white, and barren, without tree, or shrub, or 
blade of grass — I could scarcely help thinking that the wildly 
plaintive words of David's lamentation were prophetic : " Ye 
mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain 
upon you, nor fields of offerings; for there the shield of the mighty 
is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, as though he had not 
been anointed with oil" (2 Sam. i. 21). 

JEZREEL. 

On approaching the little village which occupies the site of 
the ancient city of Jezreel, I rode through a modern cemetery, 
which lies open and neglected on the hill-side. There I saw a 
troop of dogs burrowing into a new-made grave, while two huge 
vultures were perched on a cliff not a hundred yards distant. 
The place seemed deserted ; there was none " to fray them 
away." Did it not look like an illustration of the prophetic curse 
and the historic narrative given in the Bible 1 — " In the portion of 
Jezreel shall dogs eat the flesh of Jezebel" (2 Kings ix. 36 ; 
compare 1 Kings xxi. 23). That was not the only place in 
Palestine where I saw dogs and vultures holding a horrid car- 
nival among the tombs. 

There is not a vestige of royalty in Jezreel now. A dozen 
miserable houses clustered round a shattered tower are all that 
mark the site and bear the name of the capital of Ahab. With 
the exception of a large sarcophagus and some caves hewn in 
the soft limestone of the hill, there are no traces of antiquity. 
The city is utterly ruined. Its very ruins have disappeared. 
Its vineyards, too, are all gone, and the slopes immediately 
round the village are bare and barren as a desert. The blood 
shed, and the crimes committed there, would seem to have 
brought a double curse upon Jezreel. Looking on that scene 
of desolation, in the centre of one of the finest plains in the 



JEHU'S REVENGE. 



253 



world, I thought of the murder of poor Naboth, and of Joram, 
and of the infamous Jezebel, and of the whole royal family, 
(1 Kings xxi. \ 2 Kings ix., x.) 

But the site is a noble one, worthy of a royal city. It is a 
little knoll at the western extremity of the Gilboa range. The 
green plain to which it gave a name sweeps nearly all round its 
base. Standing on the top of the knoll, I saw the whole pano- 
rama of Esdraelon, from the Jordan valley below Beth-shan 
away to the dark ridge of Carmel, and from the mountains of 
Samaria on the south to the wooded heights of Galilee on the 
north. I there read with new interest the graphic narrative of 
the ninth chapter of 2 Kings. It was from those eastern moun- 
tains, from Ramoth of Gilead, Jehu came. Up that vale the 
watchman on Jezreel's tower saw the horsemen and chariots 
dashing, and he called out, " The driving is like the driving of 
Jehu the son of Nimshi; for he driveth furiously." Joram went 
out to meet him in his chariot, and Ahaziah accompanied him 
in his chariot. They drove down the steep descent to the val- 
ley. There they met Jehu, and there Joram was slain, and his 
body thrown into the vineyard of Naboth. Ahaziah turned 
and fled southward along " the road to En-gannim" (incorrectly 
translated in our version " by the way of the garden house," 
ver. 27). But he too was fatally wounded, and they took him 
across the plain to Megiddo, and there he died. 

BATTLE-FIELD OF MEGIDDO. 

It was noon when I left Jezreel. The sun was blazing in 
the centre of a cloudless sky. The plain, usually so silent and 
desolate, was all astir with the flocks and herds of Bedawin, 
who had crossed the Jordan two days previously, like locusts 
for multitude, and like locusts for destruction. I found one of 
the petty sheikhs at Jezreel, and engaged him to ride with me 
to Carmel, to prevent annoyance and perhaps danger; for his 
tribe were not of good repute. He was a fine specimen of the 

m 17 



254 GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 

Ishmaelite, — wild, free, and generous. He was finely mounted 
too, and quite willing to show off by word and act the match- 
less perfections of his mare. He asked me of my country, 
especially of what he called the "fire-ships" and "fire-horses," 
of which somebody had given him an account, though he had 
evidently not believed a single word of it. After I had described 
as well as I could the construction, and power, and speed of 
steam-boat and locomotive, he came close up, and laying his 
hand on my arm, and looking with eagle glance straight into 
my face, he said, in a deep impetuous voice, " Ya Beg! by the 
life of the prophet \ are you laughing at my beard, or is it truth you 
tellV Of course I assured him I was stating simple facts. He 
shook his head and turned away, half perplexed, half disap- 
pointed. He rode on in advance for nearly ten minutes without 
saying a word; then turning, he related with perfect gravity a 
story of his uncle, who had ridden on the back of a Ja?m from 
Bagdad to India and back again in a single night. There was 
a great deal of quiet irony in this. I didn't believe a word of 
his story, and he didn't believe a word of mine. 

A sharp ride of an hour and quarter brought us to the village 
of Taannuk, the representative of the old city of Taanach. It 
stands near the northern base of the mountains of Samaria. 
Beside it is an isolated tell covered with ruins. 

We were now approaching the field on which Barak gained 
his famous victory, — " The kings came and fought ; then fought 
the kings of Canaan in Taanach by the waters of Megiddo" 
(Judges v. 1 9). We rode on across the plain, through luxuriant 
corn-fields and verdant meadows, and in less than an hour were 
on the site of Megiddo. The old city has almost disappeared, 
and its name has long since been forgotten. It is now called 
Lejjun, a corruption of the Roman Legio, which took the place 
of the Jewish Megiddo. The ruins of a large mediaeval cara- 
vansery, two or three mills in a wady near it, some columns, 
and rubbish heaps, and building stones along the banks of a 



BATTLE OF MEGIDDO. 



255 



little stream, — such are the only vestiges of the royal city of the 
Canaanites. They lie in a quiet nook at the foot of the hills, 
on the border of Esdraelon. A short distance north is a large 
tell or hill, isolated ; it was probably the site of a fortress or 
citadel. The stream flows past it, and falls into the Kishon 
two miles northward. Here are unquestionably " the waters of 
Megiddo," beside which the battle was fought. 

Riding to the summit of the tell, the battle-field was before 
me. Taanach was visible, and the intervening plain was spread 
out like a map. The details of the battle were now intelligible. 
It would seem that Sisera had marshalled his army, with his 
" nine hundred chariots of iron," on the south bank of the 
Kishon, between Taanach and Megiddo, with the purpose pro- 
bably of invading the territory of the • southern tribes (Judges 
iv. 13). But news arrived that the northern tribes had assembled 
on Tabor. Sisera turned to meet them — he was drawn unto 
Barak as Deborah had predicted (ver. 7). Deborah gave the 
signal ; Barak charged down the mountain side. Probably the 
repulse of the van took place between Tabor and Endor (Ps. 
ixxxiii. 10). At that critical moment, as Josephus tells us, 
before the Canaanites had time to rally, a tremendous storm of 
rain, hail, and thunder from the east burst upon the battle-field, 
and full in the face of the foe. Horses, men, chariots, were 
driven back in fell confusion, — " They fought from heaven, the 
stars in their courses fought against Sisera" (Judges v. 20). 
The plain became a marsh ; the Kishon rose rapidly ; its 
alluvial banks were converted into a quagmire : " The river 
Kishon swept them away, that ancient river, the river Kishon" 
(ver. 21). 

In the spring of 1858 I saw the low parts of Esdraelon, 
previously hard and dry, turned into a dangerous morass by a 
few hours' heavy rain ; and the Kishon was swollen to such an 
extent as to render it altogether impassable at the ordinary 
fords. 



*5 6 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



Six centuries later another battle was fought on the plain of 
Megiddo. And then, instead of a song of triumph, a death - 
wail re-echoed through the mountains of Israel. 

Pharaoh-necho, marching against Assyria, passed along the 
plains of Palestine. King Josiah rashly attempted to oppose 
his progress. The Egyptian monarch gave him a friendly 
warning : " What have I to do with thee, thou king of Judah % 
I come not against thee this day, but against the house where- 
with I have war ; for God commanded me to make haste : for- 
bear thee from meddling with God, who is with me, that he 
destroy thee not" (2 Chron. xxxv. 21). The warning was 
neglected. Josiah posted his troops at Megiddo, so as to 
attack the Egyptians when defiling through the pass from 
Sharon. But the archers of the enemy, perhaps from some 
hill-side or rock, gave Josiah a fatal wound, and that decided 
the battle. The king was carried away to Jerusalem to die; 
and the whole land mourned so bitterly for the good king that 
the mourning became a proverb, to which Zechariah thus 
alludes, — " In that day there shall be a great mourning, as the. 
mourning of Hadad-rwwwn, in the valley of Afegiddon" (xii. 11). 

It may be that this plain of Megiddo, this great battle-field 
of Israel and of Palestine, was before the mind of the apostle 
John in Patmos when he figuratively described the conflict 
between the powers of good and evil, who were gathered to a 
place " called in the Hebrew tongue Ar-Mageddon, — that is, 
"the city of Megiddo" (Rev. xvi. 16). 

From Megiddo I rode westward along the south bank of the 
Kishon, passing the desolate site of Jokneam, then along the 
base of Carmel to Haifa, then up the steep path to the convent, 
Avhich I reached at length, weary and wayworn, after one of the 
longest and hardest rides I ever had in Syria. 



III. 



8D(fje Serines at fjtapfjtali ani> Cifos of ^{remiria. 

" Where is thy favoured haunt, eternal voice, 
The region of thy choice, 
Where, undisturbed by sin and earth, the soul 

Owns thy entire control? 
'Tis on the mountain's summit dark and high, 

When storms are hurrying by ; 
'Tis mid the strong foundations of the earth, 
Where torrents have their birth. " 

HE Naphtalites were the Highlanders of Palestine. 
Their territory was a prolongation of " that goodly 
mountain, Lebanon," separated from the main chain 
by the narrow ravine of the Leontes. Their shrines and strong- 
holds were high up amid mountain fastnesses; but their pastures 
stretched down to the banks of the Jordan, and their corn-fields 
lay along the sunny shores of the Sea of Galilee. Within their 
borders there was more variety of scenery and climate than in 
any of the other tribes. The plain of Gennesaret by the lake is 
seven hundred feet below the level of the ocean. Tropical heat 
and eternal summer reign there. The soil is of surpassing 
fertility, yielding the choicest fruits, and producing the rarest 
flowers. Even old Josephus, usually so dull and prosy, waxes 
eloquent under the inspiration of the richness and beauty of 
this noble plain. Then the green meadows along the sacred 
river, and the verdant slopes and downs above, rival in luxuri- 
ance the pastures of Bashan on the opposite bank. 




GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



And when we climb the wooded mountain sides that shut in 
the Jordan valley, we find ourselves on a wide expanse of table- 
land, two thousand feet and more above the sea. The scenery 
is here charming — altogether different from the bleak hills and 
rugged glens of the south, where the vine and the olive are at 
home upon rocky terraces. Here are alluvial plains covered 
with waving corn; long undulating ridges, and graceful rounded 
hill-tops, clothed with the evergreen foliage of the oak and 
terebinth; while thickets of aromatic shrubs, and velvety lawns 
of verdant turf spangled with flowers, fill up the forest glades. 
Then there are glens — long, winding, densely-wooded glens — 
with tiny streams murmuring among rocks, and playing with 
oleander flowers, away down in deep, shady beds. The moun- 
tain-sides are all furrowed with these glens, — so retired, so 
musical, so fragrant, so wildly picturesque, that one is never 
weary wandering through them, or reclining in their sequestered 
dells. If nature could influence mind, if it could create genius, 
Naphtali would be a land of poets. There the mind receives 
by every avenue all that tends to delight, to ennoble, to in- 
spire. The fresh mountain breezes are laden with perfumes— 
" the smell of Lebanon." The ear is filled with melody — the 
song of birds; the murmur of waters; the music of the forest 
as the tempest sweeps its wild chords, or the zephyr touches, 
as with seraph's finger, its softest notes. And the eye revels 
amid nature's choicest scenes, — the soft, park-like beauty of 
upland plain, the picturesque loveliness of winding vale and 
glen, and the grandeur of Hermon and Lebanon, whose snow- 
crowned peaks rise far overhead, now cradling the storm-clouds 
of winter, now distilling the dews of summer. Can it be that 
the heaven-inspired Jacob, looking into the distant future, saw 
Naphtali placed amid these ennobling landscapes, and indicated 
its effects in the prophetic blessing, "He itttereth words of 
beauty" (Gen. xlix. 21)? And is it so that the war-song of 
Barak — one of the finest odes in the Bible — is an example of 



NAPHTALPS BLESSING. 



259 



these " words of beauty," and has been handed down to us as 
a specimen and proof of Naphtali's poetic genius % 

Naphtali also teems with animal life. I was always deeply 
impressed with the solitude of southern Palestine. The words 
of Jeremiah constantly recurred to my mind as I rode across 
desolate plains and among desolate hills, " It is desolate, with- 
out man and without beast" (xxxii. 43). Men, beasts, and 
birds, seem alike to have deserted it. In Naphtali all is differ- 
ent. True, man is almost a stranger there also; but down by 
the Jordan the pastures are covered with droves of kine and 
buffalos; and the jungles are filled with wild swine; and the 
surface of lake and river is all astir with fowl. The mountain 
■ glens are infested with leopards, hyenas, and jackals; and 
troops of fleet gazelles scour the upland plains. 

MOSES' BLESSING TO NAPHTALI. 

The Jewish lawgiver saw in prophetic vision the country in 
store for Naphtali, and in poetic imagery sketched its leading 
features. Unfortunately our English version cloaks rather than 
reveals the graphic touches of the Hebrew. I shall try to bring 
out the true meaning. The blessing is an exclamation; as if, 
with eye opened, the seer had been enraptured by the sudden 
exhibition of a bright and joyous picture : " O Naphtali, satisfied 
with favour, filled with the blessing of Jehovah, possess thou the sea 
and Darom" (Deut. xxxiii. 23). "Possess thou the sea" that 
is, the Sea of Galilee with its sunny, fertile shores; " and Daroni," 
the proper name of the mountain-district, the highlands, pro- 
bably so called from the southern aspect and bright land- 
scapes.* 

How expressive are these words ! They throw light too on 

* The English version has, instead of " the sea and Darom," " the west and the south." 
The Hebrew word for "sea" is also applied to the " west," because the sea was the west* 
em boundry of Palestine ; and the word Darom, though in this passage a proper name, 
also signifies "the south," or "a southern region." Thus the error in translation origi- 
nated ; an error which the geographer alone could detect and correct. 



260 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



a somewhat obscure passage in the New Testament. When 
our Lord left his native Nazareth, and made Capernaum his 
home, and the country around it the scene of his miracles and 
his teachings, Matthew says, — and here again, in order to bring 
out the full meaning of the sacred writer, I must somewhat alter 
our English version, usually so correct and so beautiful, — "And 
leaving Nazareth he came and dwelt in Capernaum, which is 
upon the sea coast, in the borders of Zabulon and Nephthalim ; 
that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Isaias the 
prophet, saying : The land of Zabulon, and the land of Neph- 
thalim, the region of the sea, Pe?-cea, Galilee of the Gentiles ; the 
people which sat in darkness saw great light" (Matt. iv. 13-16). 
Here, be it observed, the district called " the region of the sea," 
is the same which Moses calls "the sea;" and "Galilee of the 
Gentiles" was the name given in the time of Isaiah and of our 
Lord to the more ancient " Darom." 

HISTORY OF NAPHTALI. 

It is interesting and instructive to note the effect which its 
geographical position had upon the character and history of 
Naphtali. It was separated from the great body of the nation. 
The power of Israel lay in the mountains of Ephraim and Judah. 
The plain of Jezreel, so often swept by foreign armies and 
desert hordes, almost cut off communication with Naphtali, and 
left that tribe isolated and helpless amid its mountains. Need 
we wonder that under such circumstances it showed timidity 
and indecision — that it shrunk from active warfare, and left 
some of its allotted cities in the hands of the Canaanites, rather 
than battle for its rights (Judges i. 33). Even Barak, Naphtali's 
most renowned warrior, refused to take the field until Deborah 
consented .0 accompany him, — " If thou wilt go with me, then 
I will ^;o ; but if thou wilt not go with me, I will not go : " to 
whvJh th^ prophetess rebuking replied, that his hesitation would 
strip him of his ff.oiy and confer it on a woman (Judges iv. 6- 



HISTORY OF NAPHTALI. 



261 



9). But, on the other hand, when the tribe was once forced to 
war, when driven to bay, as it were, by an implacable foe — ■ 
when hesitation and timidity could not secure safety, then the 
Naphtalites showed the activity, the endurance, and the heroic 
spirit of mountaineers. Sisera learned this from fatal experience 
on the banks of the Kishon. Viewed thus in the light of history 
we can understand the meaning of Jacob's blessing, " Naphtali 
is a hind let loose" (Gen. xlix. 21). It would seem as if the 
patriarch's eye had swept these northern mountains, and had 
selected one of their own gazelles as a fit emblem of the tribe. 
Ever timid and undecided at first — more inclined to flee than 
to fight; but when once brought to bay, a fierce, active, and 
dangerous foe. Some have said our English version is here 
wrong. I cannot see it. The rendering of the Hebrew is literal 
and grammatical. The allusion is beautiful and true (compare 
2 Sam. ii. 18; 1 Chron. xii. 8). 

The geographical position of Naphtali produced other effects 
upon its history. The tribe occupied border-land. It came 
into close contact with the Syrians of Damascus, with the 
mountain tribes of Lebanon, and especially with the great com- 
mercial nation of Phoenicia. Separated from the body of the 
Jewish people, forced into connection with strangers, the 
Naphtalites became less exclusive than their brethren. The 
Phoenicians traded with them, and settled among them (1 Kings 
ix. n-13). That sharp line which separated Jew and Gentile 
was in part at least obliterated. In worship, in manners, and 
even in language, they accommodated themselves to their 
Gentile neighbours, and, at length, the whole land was called 
" Galilee of the Gentiles," and its people lost caste with the 
exclusive Jews of the South. These facts may help to explain 
the question of Nathanael, " Can any good thing come out of 
Nazareth?" (John i. 46); and the remark of the woman re- 
garding Peter, " Thou art a Galilean, and thy speech agreeth 
thereto" (Mark xiv. 70). Placed on the northern frontier, 



262 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



Naphtali bore the first brunt of every invasion from that quarter. 
The generals of Benhadad of Damascus "smote Ijon, and Dan, 
and Abel-beth-maachah, and all the land of Naphtali" (1 Kings 
xv. 20); and Naphtali was the first among the tribes of Israel 
to fall beneath the power of Assyria, and to feel the captive's 
chain (2 Kings xv. 29). 

MOUNTAIN SCENERY. 

It was a sunny day in the month of May I last rode through 
the tangled thickets of thorns and thistles on the desolate plain 
of Gennesaret, and after a farewell visit to Chorazin, Bethsaida, 
and Capernaum, turned my horse's head toward the mountains 
of Naphtali. The heat along the shore was intense ; but as I 
climbed the rugged steep, refreshing breezes fanned my cheek, 
and the perfume of a thousand flowers filled the air. Poppies, 
anemones, marigolds, convolvulus, star of Bethlehem, and 
numerous others, clothed the mountain side, — here a field of 
bright unbroken scarlet; there another of golden yellow; yonder 
a bank of shrubs and dwarf oaks, all draped and festooned with 
snow-white convolvulus; and the intervals everywhere filled up 
with a glowing mosaic of rainbow hues, — 

" And what a wilderness of flowers ! 
It seemed as though from all the bowers. 
And fairest fields of all the year, 
The mingled spoil were scattered here." 

It was a rugged and a toilsome path. Often there was no 
path at all; and we rode right on up bank, through brake, 
guiding our course by the frowning battlements of Safed, which 
loomed against the bright blue sky far overhead. From the hill- 
side we turned into a wild glen, where the voice of the turtle 
floated from tree to tree ; and the cooing of countless wood- 
pigeons ran like a stream of soft melody along the jagged cliffs 
above us. 

We stopped at intervals to look out over the country as it 



EARTHQUAKE OF 1837. 



263 



gradually opened up behind us. I say we; for I was not now 
alone — a goodly company of pilgrim friends from the far west 
encircled me, all as fully alive to the beauties of nature and the 
absorbing' interest of "holy places" as I was myself. I re- 
member well one spot where we reined up in a retired nook, 
under the shade of a huge walnut, to admire a scene of surpass- 
ing grandeur. In the foreground, on the left, rose a limestone 
cliff three hundred feet or more. Half way up was the facade 
and dark door of an ancient sepulchre. Beyond it, away down 
through the vista of the wild glen, slept the Sea of Galilee in 
its deep, deep bed. In the back-ground was the mountain- 
chain of Gilead — a massive wall of rich purple; and on the 
right, over a forest of brown hill-tops, rose the graceful rounded 
summit of Tabor. 



SAFED THE EARTHQUAKE. 

We pitched our tents beside the castle of Safed, and spent 
the evening in exploring its ruins. It crowns a peak, two 
thousand seven hundred and seventy-five feet high, which forms 
the southern culminating point of the mountains of Naphtali. 
The town lies along the steep slope . beneath, and contains a 
population of a thousand Jews and two to three thousand 
Muslems. The houses are ranged like terraces — the roofs of 
the lower tiers forming the streets of those above. This ac- 
counts for the great destruction of property and the terrible 
sacrifice of human life during the earthquake of 1837^/ Safed 
was then much larger than at present; but in a single moment 
three-fourths of its houses were thrown down, and five thousand 
of its inhabitants buried beneath them. The poor Jews suffered 
most. The spectacle presented after the earthquake was heart- 
rending. Many were killed instantly; others, buried beneath 
ruins, or wedged in by fallen stones and timber, perished 
miserably before they could be released ; a few were only ex- 



264 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



tricated after five or six days, covered with wounds, fainting 
with thirst. 

Abundant traces of the earthquake were still there. Many 
of the largest and best houses in the town shattered and 
deserted; others, though still habitable, rent from top to bottom; 
the battlements and towers of the old castle lying in confused 
heaps ; and, what was far more impressive than all, and enabled 
one to form a fuller idea of the appalling catastrophe, the whole 
surface of the ground, on the top and round the sides of the 
hill, bore marks of the frightful convulsion ; — here, great masses 
of rock rent and torn; there, huge fissures in the earth, half 
filled with loose clay and stones from the shivered sides. 

Hugh Miller has somewhere said, " The natural boundaries 
of the geographer are rarely described by right lines. When- 
ever these occur, however, the geologist may look for something 
remarkable." Probably Palestine affords the best example of 
this in the world. From the foot of Hermon to the borders 
of Edom the Jordan valley is a right line, straight as an arrow ; 
and nowhere else does the geologist meet with such remarkable 
physical phenomena. The whole valley, as I have shown else- 
where, is a huge fissure in earth's crust, varying from one to 
thirteen hundred feet in depth. Asphalt is thrown up from 
its bed ; sulphureous vapours and boiling waters are emitted 
at intervals ; while the mountain-chains on each side are every 
few years shaken to their base by internal convulsions. Safed 
appears to be one of the grand centres of volcanic action ; and 
it is interesting to note how the hot springs at Tiberias, Gadara, 
and Callirrhoe on the shore of the Dead Sea, well out in unison 
with the throbs of its fiery heart. 

Safed is one of the four Jewish "holy places" in Palestine, 
and yet it has no Biblical interest. Its castle is a relic of the 
Crusades, originally built and garrisoned by the heroic Templars. 
The great attraction of the place now, at least for the Christian 
pilgrims, is the noble panorama it commands. From its 



KEDESH—NAPHTALI. 



265 



crumbling battlements one gets perhaps the best view of the deep 
basin of the lake of Tiberias, and the chasm of the Jordan 
entering and leaving it ; and then he can look away out across 
the plateau of Bashan to its mountain-chain on the eastern 
horizon. On the south-east is the range of Gilead ; and on the 
south the eye roams at will among the wooded hills, and wind- 
ing glens, and green plains of Lower Galilee. 

KEDESH NAPHTALI. 

I did not take the direct road to Kedesh. It was always my 
plan in travelling through Bible lands to select the routes of 
greatest interest, though they might not be the shortest. I did 
so now. Diverging to the right, I rode round the head of a 
ravine, and then along the eastern base of a conical hill which 
overtops Safed. In half an hour we reached the brow of the 
mountain ridge, overlooking one of the most magnificent pros- 
pects in Syria. At our feet lay the plain of the Upper Jordan, 
covered with verdure, and having the lake Merom sleeping 
peacefully in its southern end. Beyond it rose Hermon, tower- 
ing fully ten thousand feet above the plain, its top covered with 
snow, and sharply defined against the clear blue sky, as if 
chiselled in marble. To the left the long serried ridge of 
Lebanon ran away, peak upon peak, all snow-capped, until lost 
in the distance. We stood spell-bound, — 

" While Admiration, feeding at the eye, 
And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene." 

Over the undulating upland plains of Naphtali our path now 
led, — past little villages, through ripening fields of wheat and 
barley, and across luxuriant wastes, over which gazelles bounded 
before us in joyous troops. We zig-zagged down into the wild 
ravine of Hendaj, and ate our lunch where a willow drooped 
its weeping branches over a foaming torrent. On the banks 0/ 



266 



GALILEE AND THE SEA- COAST. 



this stream, farther down, overlooking the "waters of Merom," 
lie, as we shall see, the remains of royal Hazor. As we sat 
there amid gorgeous oleander flowers, the thought occurred 
to us, that Sisera in his flight probably crossed the glen near 
this spot ; for it was on the high plain to the north he fell by 
the treacherous hand of Jael. 

At length we reached Kedesh, the "sanctuary" (such is the 
meaning of the name) of Naphtali, and the city of refuge for the 
northern tribes. The site is beautiful — the summit and sides 
of a little ridge projecting from wooded heights on the west 
into a green plain. But the royal city of the Canaanites (Judges 
xii. 22), "the holy place" of Northern Palestine, is now ruined 
and desolate. True, there are a few hovels on a corner of the 
site, and a few shepherds on its pastures ; yet the glory and the 
sacredness of Kedesh have long since departed. Nought 
remains to mark them save the old name and wide-spread ruins. 
The ridge is strewn with ruins, — columns half buried in the 
soil; hewn stones gathered in heaps among corn-fields, or built 
in rude fences around tobacco gardens ; and foundations too 
massive to be removed by the spoiler's hand. 

But the most interesting remains are in the plain. The first 
building I examined was a square mausoleum, massive and 
simple ; its only ornament a bold moulding round the doorway. 
The interior is cruciform, and contains a number of recesses, or 
loculiy for bodies, in some of which are mouldering bones. I had 
before seen similar tombs in Bashan and Anti-Lebanon. They 
are all probably of the Roman age. Not far distant is a group 
of beautiful sarcophagi, placed together on a platform of solid 
masonry some six feet high. I have seen hundreds of sarcophagi 
elsewhere in Palestine and Syria, but none like these. Two of 
them are double, — that is, each block has two graves excavated 
in it, side by side, and covered by one lid. There are also two 
single ones — six in all. They were richly carved and sculp- 
tured ; and although much worn, we can discover wreaths ot 



TOMBS OF KEDESH. 



267 



leaves and pine cones along the sides of one, rams' heads at the 
angles of another, and an eagle on another. 

To the east of these are the ruins of a temple. The portico 
has fallen, and its Corinthian columns are almost covered with 
thorns and thistles. A triple doorway, handsomely ornamented 
with wreaths of fruit and flowers, remains perfect. On the 
lintel of one of the side-doors is an eagle with expanded wings. 

Dr. Robinson supposed that these remains were of Jewish 
origin ; and there seemed some cause for the belief in the fact, 
that a Jewish tradition of the middle ages placed here the 
sepulchres and monuments of Barak, Deborah, and Jael. When 
I saw them I thought the style of the architecture and the 
sculptures on the sarcophagi were Roman or Grecian rather 
than Jewish. Other travellers have since examined them more 
thoroughly, and the result shows that my impressions were 
correct. An altar has been discovered at the large building, 
with a Greek inscription, almost obliterated, containing a dedi- 
cation to "the gods." 

barak's victory. 

Kedesh was the birth-place of Barak, Naphtali's hero and 
Israel's deliverer. From Kedesh Deborah summoned him to 
fight the battle of his country, and from hence he marched at 
the head of ten thousand brave men. At Kedesh was thus 
enacted the first scene of that historic drama; and beside it the 
last act also was performed. At that time the tribe of Heber 
the Kenite was encamped "at the terebinths of Zaanaim, which 

is by Kedesh" (Judges iv. 11) It was the second day 

after the battle on Esdraelon ; but the news had not yet reached 
these mountains. From the towers of Hazor watchmen looked 
in vain for a messenger ; and the mother of Sisera called from 
her window, "Why is his chariot so long in coming? why tarry 
the wheels of his chariots'?" (v. 28). On the evening of that 
day, a solitary footman is seen approaching the tent of Heber, 



268 GALILEE AND THE SEA- COAST. 

His step is tottering ; his dress rent and covered with mire ; in 
his face is pictured black despair. Jael hastens forth to meet 
him. It is Sisera. She needs to ask no question, for she can 
read the whole story at a glance. And hark ! the cries of the 
pursuers already echo through the mountains. See! their 
weapons flash amid the foliage. " Turn in, my lord, turn in to 
me — fear not." He turned in to the tent. " Give me a little 
water — I am thirsty." She gave him milk : he drank, and sank 
exhausted into sleep. It was his last sleep. Jael took an iron 
tent-pin in one hand, and a heavy mallet in the other, and by a 
single blow pierced the temples of the sleeping warrior. So 
died Sisera. 

Beneath the shade of a terebinth, by the ruins of Kedesh, I 
read this tragic tale. Before me, in a forest glade, were the 
black tents of some Turkmans, modern representatives of the 
Kenites. I saw the large iron tent-pins ; I saw the mallets with 
which the women drive them into the ground when encamping, 
for this is their work. I saw the women themselves — strong, 
active, fierce-looking women, just as fancy would picture a Jael. 
There was little wanting to complete the scene. That little 
imagination easily supplied; and there again was realized before 
me one of the most graphic of Bible stories. 

BETH-REHOB. 

I rode on north-east for two hours through a richly wooded 
country, and then came out on the eastern brow of the moun- 
tain range. A sharp descent of twenty minutes brought me to 
the village of Hunin. The great attraction here is the castle, 
now in ruins, but exhibiting in its massive foundations and 
shattered towers specimens of the workmanship of every race 
that held the country from the Phoenicians to the Turks. The 
site is most commanding, — a terrace on the steep mountain 
side, a thousand feet above the plain of Dan. Facing it, on the 
opposite range of Hermon, I saw the ruins of Cassarea Philippi. 



SITES OF IJON AND ABEL. 



269 



The sacred writer, in telling the story of the capture of Laish 
yy the Danites, says it was situated " in the valley that lieth by 
Beth-Rehob" (Judges xviii. 28). There was the valley below 
ne, and yonder little rounded hill in the midst of it is the site 
of Laish. Is not this therefore Beth-Rehob 1 

I here bade adieu to the mountains of Naphtali, and rode 
over to the fountains of the Jordan. 

THE INVASION OF TIGLATH-PILESER. 

During another tour, made at the same season of the year, I 
traversed Naphtali from north to south. Crossing the Leontes 
at the Castle of Shukif, I rode over a low ridge into the beauti- 
ful plain of Merj 'Ayun, which lies on the northern frontier of 
Naphtali. I ascended the isolated tell Dibbin, at the upper end 
of the plain. It is about a hundred feet high, and on its flat 
top and.round its base are heaps of stones and rubbish. The 
tell takes its name from a neighbouring village, but the name 
of the plain is ancient It is not difficult to recognise the 
Hebrew Ijon in the Arabic 'Ayim. On this spot stood Ijon, 
the first city captured by Benhadad when he invaded Northern 
Palestine (1 Kings xv. 20), and the first taken by Tiglath- 
pileser (2 Kings xv. 29). 

I was now prepared to trace the route of the Assyrian con- 
queror — that route along which he led so many weeping cap- 
tives in his train. 

I rode down through fields of corn and green meadows to the 
foot of the plain, some five miles from Ijon. Here, on the top 
of a little conical hill, stands the village of Abel, on the site of 
Abel-beth-Maachah, the second city captured by Tiglath-pileser. 
From it the Assyrians ascended the mountains and marched 
upon Kedesh. I rode southwards along their eastern base to 
survey the plain of Huleh (or Merom), and search for the site 
of Hazor. 

After a long ride, the incidents of which I must here pass 
(10) 18 



270 



GALILEE AND THE SEA- CO AST. 



over, I reached an undulating plain lying between the foot of 
the mountains and the western shore of the waters of Merom. 
Ascending a projecting ridge, I examined the country minutely, 
and felt convinced that I had before me the battle-field where 
Joshua overthrew the northern confederacy: "So Joshua came 
against them by the waters of Merom suddenly" (xi. 7). If so, 
where was Hazor? It must have been close at hand, for after 
the pursuit was over, "Joshua turned back and took Hazor" 

SITE OF HAZOR DISCOVERED. 

The incidental notices of the sacred writers place Hazor 
south of Kedesh (Josh. xix. 36; 2 Kings xv. 29); and Josephus 
states that it was situated over the lake of Merom, and so close 
to it that the plain round the lake was called by its name. 

Beside where I sat was the mouth of the ravine of Hendaj. 
Mounting my horse, I followed a broad path, like an old high- 
way, up its southern bank, and soon came upon the ruins of an 
ancient city. Not a building — not even a foundation was per- 
fect. Large cisterns, heaps of stones, mounds of rubbish, 
prostrate columns, the remains of a temple, and an altar with a 
Greek inscription — such were the ruins strewn over this site. I 
thought at the time that these might be the ruins of Hazor, and 
I have since become more and more confirmed in the belief. 

From this interesting spot I rode over the mountains to Safed, 
and thence I took a straight course down a rugged hill side, 
and across undulating table-land overgrown with thickets of 
gigantic thistles, to the mouth of the Jordan, where it enters the 
Sea of Galilee. It was a toilsome but most interesting ride, 
affording a clear view at once of the wonderful richness of the 
soil, and no less wonderful desolation of the country. 

Having thus traversed Naphtali, which constitutes the eastern 
division of Northern Palestine, I now turn to Phoenicia the 
Western. 



ORIGIN OF PHOENICIA. 



271 



PHOENICIA, 

Along the whole sea-board of Palestine extends a low plain, 
twenty miles wide at the southern end, but at the northern a 
mere strip. In Bible times it was divided into three provinces, 
— Philistia, Sharon, and Phoenicia. The ridge of Carmel sepa- 
rated the two latter. At its northern base is the plain of 
Acre, reaching inland till it joins Esdraelon. But the moun- 
tains of Naphtali first, and then the loftier and bolder chain of 
Lebanon, shoot out their western roots, and the coast-plain, 
from Achzib to the entrance of Hamath, does not average 
more than a mile in breadth, and is often intersected by rocky 
promontories. On this narrow tract, under the shadow of 
Lebanon, stood the world-renowned cities of Tyre and Sidon. 

The founders of Phoenicia were Sidon, Arvad, and Arki 
(Gen. x. 15-18) sons of Canaan, and consequently, in the Bible 
as well as on their own coins and monuments, the people are 
always called " Canaanites" (Judges i. 31, 32). The name 
Phoenicia is of Greek origin, and probably derived from the 
"palms" (phosnikes) that once waved on the sunny plain. 
Phoenicia was the great mother of commerce — the England, in 
fact, of the Old World. The proudest cities along the shores 
of the Mediterranean were her daughters ; Carthage, Syracuse, 
Cadiz, Marseilles, and many others. The plain of Phoenicia 
was included in the Land of Promise (Josh. xiii. 4-6), but the 
Israelites were unable, and probably unwilling, to expel the 
wealthy and powerful traders (Judges i. 31, 32). David and 
Solomon even sought their aid as seamen, and took advantage 
of their skill as architects (2 Sam. v. 11 ; 1 Kings v.; ix. 27). 

Thus, while the sacred interest that clusters round every spot 
in Palestine can scarce be said to find a place in Phoenicia, 
there is a historic interest in its wave-washed ruins that makes 
them dear to the scholar; and there is an occasional connection 
between them and Bible story, which awakens the attention of 



27 2 GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 

the Christian. Elijah's miracle at Zarephath, a city of Sidon 
(i Kings xvii. 9; Luke iv. 26), our Lord's interview with the 
Syro-Phcenician woman (Matt xv. 21; Mark vii. 26), and the 
Apostle Paul's visits to Tyre (Acts xxi. 3), Sidon (xxvii. 3) and 
Ptolemais (xxi. 7), can never be forgotten. Phoenicia, too, is 
full of prophetic interest. The infallible truth of Scripture is 
written upon her desolate shores. 

THE SEA COAST. 

My first ride through Phoenicia was a continuation of one 
of my earliest tours in the Holy Land. Many years have 
passed since then, but the scenes are still fresh before the eye 
of memory. From Nazareth I journeyed westward through the 
wooded hills of Galilee and across the rich plain to Acre. 
A echo, or Ptolemais, has little Biblical interest, so I pass it and 
ride northward to Achzib, one of those cities which Asher 
thought it best to leave, with Accho and Zidon, in the hands of 
the Phoenicians (Judges i. 31). The hills were now close upon 
my right, clothed with olive groves, which brought to my mind 
Moses' blessing upon Asher — " Let him dip his foot in oil" 
(Deut. xxxiii. 24). I scaled the Tyrian Ladder, a bold head- 
land which shoots far into the sea, and in two hours more I 
clambered up the dizzy staircase to the top of the White Cape 
— a perpendicular cliff of limestone rising hundreds of feet from 
the bosom of the deep; along its brow the ancient and only 
road is carried, hewn in the living rock. Thence I pushed on- 
wards and encamped at the fountains of Tyre. 

Nearly the whole shore from the Tyrian Ladder northwards 
was strewn with ruins. Heaps of hewn stones and quantities 
of marble tesserae lay in my path; while broken shafts and 
mounds of rubbish were seen to the right and left — here cro*sn- 
ing a cliff, there washed by the waves. One thing I specially 
noted: from the time I left Achzib till I reached the fountains I 



RUINS OF TYRE. 



273 



did not see a human being, — a mournful and solitary silence 
reigns along Phoenicia's coast. 

TYRE. 

I spent two days at Tyre, and they were not the least inter- 
esting of my pilgrimage. I first examined the fountains, now 
called Ras-el- Ain. They are natural springs, four in number, 
encircled by massive walls, which raise the water high enough 
to supply the city, to which it was taken on arched aqueducts 
more than three miles in length. Next I minutely surveyed 
the desolate site of " Old Tyre," Palcetyrus; and then crossing 
Alexander's mole, I explored the whole remains of " New Tyre." 
The results of that and other examinations I have detailed else- 
where (Hand-book) , and need not repeat here. 

Tyre was a double city, or rather there were two cities of the 
same name, an old and a new. The former stood on the main- 
land, the latter on an island opposite, half a mile from the 
shore. Of Old Tyre not a vestige remains. I searched the 
plain on which it stood without discovering a single fragment 
of a wall, or a trace of a foundation, or even a heap of rubbish. 
History accounts for this remarkable fact. Three centuries 
before Christ the city was taken by Alexander the Great, who 
immediately proceeded to besiege New Tyre on the island. 
Not being able to reach its walls with his engines, he collected 
the whole remains of the old city — stones, timber, rubbish — 
threw them into the narrow channel, and thus formed a cause- 
way. 

Here we have one of the most striking fulfilments of prophecy 
on record. Three centuries before Alexander the Great was 
born Ezekiel wrote, — " Thus saith the Lord God, Behold, I am 
against thee, O Tyrus, and will cause many nations to come up 
against thee, as the sea causeth his waves to come up. A?id 
they shall destroy the walls of Tyrus, and break doivn her towers : 
I will also scrape her dust from her, and make her like the top of 



274 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



a rock They shall lay thy stones, a?id thy timber, and thy 

dust in the midst of the water. . . . . I will make thee a terror, 
and thou shall be no more: though thou be sought for, yet 
shall thou never be found again, saith the Lord God" (xxvi. 3, 4, 

12, 2l). 

Would it not seem as if the prophet had drawn aside the veil 
which shrouds futurity, and looking down through five-and- 
twenty centuries, had seen that bare, unmarked, deserted plain 
as I saw it"? One might even imagine that his prophetic eye 
had been able to distinguish a solitary traveller from a far dis- 
tant land wandering up and down, searching, but searching in 
vain, for the city of which he said, " Though thou be sought for, 
yet shalt thou never be found again." 

New Tyre is now represented by a poor village. The ancient 
"mistress of the seas" can only boast of a few fishing-boats. 
The modern houses of a better class have had their walls so 
shattered by earthquakes that the inhabitants have deserted 
them; and the modern ramparts are so ruinous that I went in 
and out over them in several places. The most imposing ruin 
is that of the cathedral, built in the fourth century, for which 
Eusebius, the ecclesiastical historian, wrote a consecration ser- 
mon, and in which William, the historian of the Crusades, 
presided as archbishop. 

But one thing especially struck me in wandering over the site 
of Tyre. Along the shores of the peninsula lie huge sea-beaten 
fragments of the old wall, and piles of granite and marble 
columns. They are bare as the top of a rock; and here and 
there I saw the fishermen spreading out their nets upon them, 
to dry in the bright sunshine. When I saw them, I sat down 
on one of the highest fragments, and read, with mingled feelings 
of wonder and awe, the words of Ezekiel, — " / will make thee 
like the top of a rock; thou shalt be a place to spread nets upon n 
(xxvi. 14). 



BE A UTY OF SID ON. 



275 



SIDON. 

From Tyre to Sidon I rode in six hours, stopping in the inter 
val to examine the desolate site of the city of Sarepta, and to 
read the story of Elijah's visit and miracle (1 Kings xvii. 9-24). 
The aspect of Tyre is bleak and bare, but that of Sidon rich and 
blooming. In fact, it is one of the most picturesque towns in 
Syria. It stands on a low hill which juts out into the Mediter- 
ranean, and is defended by old but picturesque walls and towers. 
On a rocky islet, connected with the city by a broken bridge, is 
a ruined castle, once the defence of the harbour. The ancient 
architectural remains about Sidon are few, — some marble and 
granite columns, some pieces of mosaic pavement, and some 
fragments of sculptured cornice. But the tombs are interesting. 
They dot the plain and the mountain side beyond, and have 
already yielded a rich harvest to the antiquary, — Phoenician 
sarcophagi, Greek coins, funeral ornaments, and crystal vases. 
They would still repay a fuller inspection. 

The gardens and orchards of Sidon are charming. Oranges, 
lemons, citrons, bananas, and palms, grow luxuriantly, and give 
the environs of the old city a look of eternal spring. Sidon is one 
of the few spots in Syria where nature's luxuriance has triumphed 
over neglect and ruin, and where a few relics of ancient pros- 
perity still remain in street, and mart, and harbour. It is 
instructive to compare Tyre and Sidon. The former far out- 
stripped the latter in grandeur, wealth, and power, but its history 
has been briefer and more momentous. Once and again the 
tide of war swept over Tyre, first leaving the old city desolate, 
and then the new in ruins. Sidon has been more fortunate, or 
perhaps I should say less unfortunate. The tide of war swept 
over it too, but the wave was not so destructive. 

How are we to account for this marked difference in the 
history of two cities, founded by the same race, standing upon 
the same shore, almost within sight of each other, inhabited by 



276 



GALILEE AND THE SEA-COAST. 



the same people, and exposed to the same dangers? Human 
foresight, had it been asked, would have pronounced Tyre the 
more secure, because its position rendered it almost impreg- 
nable. The Spirit of prophecy judged otherwise. And in 
answering this question, the thoughtful reader of the Bible and 
the thoughtful student of history will not overlook the fact, 
that while Sidon's name is lightly passed over by the Hebrew 
prophets, the curses pronounced upon Tyre are among the most 
sweeping and terrible in the whole scope of prophecy. 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



I. 



" His countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars."— Cant. v. 15. 

EBANON was the paradise of the Hebrew poets; and 
it is not strange that it should have been so. For 
grandeur of scenery, richness of products, and beauty 
of climate, it is not surpassed in the world. After Egypt's 
marshy plains, and Sinai's naked cliffs, and the parched desert 
of dreary Arabia, need we wonder that when Moses looked on 
Lebanon — its snow-crowned peaks towering to heaven, its sides 
all waving with foliage — he should have thus breathed forth to 
God the desire of his heart: " I pray thee let me go over and 
see the good land that is beyond Jordan, that goodly mountain, 
and Lebanon"? (Deut. hi. 25.) 

Those only can realize the luxury of shade and verdure who 
have traversed under an eastern sun an eastern wilderness. 
Solomon, in the matchless imagery of his Song, catches with all 
a poet's skill and with all a poet's enthusiasm the leading beauties 
of Lebanon. To the inhabitant of Jerusalem, parched with 
heat on a sultry summer's day, the heaven above his head brass, 
the white walls, and white rocks, and white hills all round him 
glowing like a furnace — no fountain, river, or lake, no green 
meadow, no cool shade in view — what could convey to his 
mind a more enchanting vision than the words suggested by 
the scenery of these mountains, — " A garden inclosed is my 



280 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



sister, a fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams 
from Lebanon"? (iv. 12, 15.) His eye also upon the freshness 
of Lebanon's primeval forests, its forests of cedar, and pine, and 
evergreen oak, and upon the grandeur of its outline, the poet- 
king delineates the glory of the spouse by a single touch : " His 
countenance is as Lebanon" (v. 15). And then again, revelling 
in vivid imagination in those green glades and vine-clad slopes, 
where the air is laden with perfume, he says of the bride, " The 
smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon." 

How often have I myself luxuriated on banks of sweet thyme, 
and in deep dells where the myrtle and honeysuckle give forth 
their odours, and in gardens where the damask rose and orange 
blossom fill the air with perfumes, amid the heights of Lebanon ! 
How often, too, after days of toil and travel over trackless 
wastes, without the shadow even of a great rock, my lips parched 
with thirst, my eye-balls burning in their sockets, when at length 
I climbed those mountains, and felt their soft breezes fanning 
my fevered brow, when I quaffed their ice-cold waters, and 
looked on their snowy peaks glittering under a blazing sun, — 
how often then have I realized in their full force and meaning 
the prophet's words, " Will a man leave the snow of Lebanon % 
or shall the cold-flowing waters be forsaken?" (Jer. xviii. 14.) 

Lebanon was ever before the eyes of the ancient Israelite. 
From every hill top in Central Palestine, from the depths of the 
Jordan valley, from the lofty table-land of Moab and Bashan, 
he saw, away on the northern horizon, those beautiful pale blue 
peaks with their glittering crowns. And when he traversed 
Galilee, or went down to the shores of its lake, then Lebanon 
and Hermon rose in all their majesty, appearing to him as 
visions of paradise. Can we wonder that prophets spake and 
poets sung of the "glory of Lebanon"? (Isa. xxxv. 2; lx. 13). 

The name Lebanon signifies "whiteness;" and it is appropriate 
whether we look at the whiteness of its limestone cliffs or of 
the snow upon its summit. It is a singular fact that the names 



NAMES OF LEBANON. 



281 



of the highest mountains in most countries have the same 
meaning. Himalaya, Alps, Mont Blanc, Ben Nevis, Snowdon, 
Sierra Nevada, are all "white mountains." The name Lebanon 
in Scripture is applied to two distinct mountain chains which 
run in parallel lines on opposite sides of the valley of Coele-Syria. 
The western range is Lebanon proper, and in Scripture is called 
by no other name; the eastern is distinguished as "Lebanon 
towards the sun rising" (Josh. xiii. 5), and its southern peaks 
are known by many names — Hermon, Sirion, Amanus, &c. 
Among the people of the country most of the old Bible names 
are still used ; but more commonly " Lebanon towards the sun 
rising," the Anti-Libanus of classic authors, is called Jebel esh- 
Shurky, the "Eastern mountain," while Lebanon proper is styled 
Jebel el-Ghurby, the Western mountain." To Hermon is given 
the noble title Jebel esh-Sheikh, "Prince mountain," and it 
deserves it. 

To the grand scenery, waving fruit, and holy and historic 
associations of Lebanon proper, I shall now endeavour to 
introduce my reader. 

PHYSICAL FEATURES OF LEBANON. 

The range of Lebanon is about a hundred miles long. It 
follows the shore of the Mediterranean, here sending out rugged 
roots far into the sea, and here leaving a strip of plain bordered 
by a pebbly strand. This plain has a famous name and a 
proud histoiy of its own. It is Phoenicia, the England of an- 
tiquity; and on it stood the great cities of Sidon and Tyre, the 
cradles of the world's commerce. Lebanon looked proudly 
down on these her fair daughters. 

From the green meadows of Esdraelon rise, in graceful 
undulations, the wooded hills of Galilee. The hills of Galilee 
swell up into the picturesque mountains of Naphtali; and these 
again stretch across the sublime ravine of the Leontes and 
tower into the majestic ridge of Lebanon. Commencing at an 



282 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND 



elevation of six thousand feet, this ridge increases gradually tc 
nearly eleven thousand, and then terminates abruptly in the 
valley called by Moses the "entrance of Hamath" (Num. 
xxxiv. 8). 

The eastern declivities of Lebanon are steep and rugged; but 
the western are long and gradual, furrowed from top to bottom 
by wild ravines, and broken everywhere by white cliffs and 
rugged banks, and tens of thousands of terraces, which rise like 
stairs from the sea to the snow wreaths. These western de- 
clivities are the " roots of Lebanon," massive, broad, and far- 
reaching. One can see as he wanders over them how graphic 
and expressive was the language of Hosea : " I will be as the 
dew unto Israel ; he shall grow as the lily, and strike forth his 
roots as Lebanon'" (xiv. 5). 

BEYROUT. 

The classic Berytus, famous for its school of philosophy, and 
the modern Beyront, has no place in the Bible. Yet it is now 
the capital of Lebanon, and the only real sea-port of Syria. 
Western enterprise has given it an air of prosperity, while grim 
desolation is elsewhere brooding over the land. 

The site of Beyrout is among the finest in the world. From 
the base of Lebanon a triangular plain juts into the sea, and 
round a little bay on its northern shore nestles the nucleus of 
the city, engirt by old walls and towers. Behind the city the 
ground rises with a gentle slope, and is thickly studded with 
villas of every graceful form which Eastern fancy, grafted on 
Western taste, can devise ; and all embosomed in the foliage of 
the orange, mulberry, and palm. In spring time and summer 
Beyrout is beautiful. The glory of Lebanon behind, a mantle 
of verdure wrapped closely round it, fringed by a pearly strand ; 
in front the boundless sea, bright and blue as the heavens that 
over- arch it. Such is Beyrout. 



RIDE TO THE DOG RIVER. 



283 



THE DOG RIVER AND ITS MONUMENTS. 

It was near noon on a bright April day when I mounted my 
favourite Nezik — one of the prettiest and wildest of Arab horses 
— at the gate of Beyrout. My servants and muleteers were 
already hours in advance ; and Nezik, as he champed the bit 
and pawed the ground, showed his eagerness to follow. 

The mulberry groves and cactus-lined lanes were soon passed 
For a moment I drew up in the bay of St. George, to take 
another look at the fabled scene of our patron saint's conflict 
with the dragon, with which the fine old crown pieces have 
made English eyes so familiar. Then fording the sluggish 
Magoras, I reached the silver strand that here stretches for 
miles along the Mediterranean. Loosening the rein an hour's 
gallop brought me to the foot of the famous pass of the Dog 
River. 

One of Lebanon's great "roots" here strikes far out, and dips, 
a rocky precipice, into the bosom of the deep. Over the rugged 
cliff the Egyptian Sesostris, thirteen centuries B.C., cut a zigzag 
road. Seven hundred years later the road was repaired by the 
Assyrian Sennacherib, when on his march to the fatal plain of 
Libnah, (2 Kings xviii. 13, &c.) Then, after a still longer 
interval, came the Roman Antonine, and reconstructed the pass. 
And since his day the Turks and the French, if they have done 
little in the way of repairs, have at least indulged their vanity 
by leaving a record of their presence. 

The long history of the pass is written upon its rocky sides. 
Nine tablets are there, each as big as an ordinary door. Three 
are Egyptian, and six Assyrian; the latter distinguished by 
quaint, stiff figures, and yards of cuneiform letters. The Roman 
tablet is of more moderate dimensions : plain, and matter-of- 
fact, like the men who made it. The Turks have as many 
flourishes in their letters, as in their legend ; and the French, 
with characteristic modesty, have, it is said, for their visit 



284 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



was subsequent to mine, appropriated one of the Egyptian 
panels. 

How strange to see in one spot, at one glance, inscribed 
records extending back in succession almost to the time of 
Moses ! To see there, too, monumental evidence of one of the 
most remarkable incidents in Bible history — the expedition of 
Sennacherib ! The tablets on this pass are not surpassed in 
interest or importance by any monuments in Syria. 

Scrambling up the ancient road, and round the edge of a 
dizzy crag, the glen of Nahr el-Kelb opened suddenly before me. 
It was a scene of singular grandeur. Away in the depths 
beneath dashed the mad torrent in sheets of foam, over its 
rocky bed. Its banks fringed with oleander, now wet with 
spray, and glistening under the bright sunbeams. Above rose 
jagged precipices of white limestone, crowned far overhead by 
a convent and a village. 

On a former occasion I traced the river to its source, through 
rich Alpine scenery which gave me a vivid picture of "the glory 
of Lebanon." Now my course was different. I followed the 
deeply indented shore ; and after an hour's hard ride cooled 
my horse's foaming sides in 

THE RIVER ADONIS. 

A few days before my visit heavy rain had fallen in Lebanon \ 
and I had therefore an opportunity of seeing Adonis " run 
purple to the sea its w T aters tinged with the earth the swollen 
torrent tore from the mountain sides. The fable of Venus and 
Adonis is well known. The Greeks borrowed it from the 
Syrians ; and the bank of this stream was the scene of the 
catastrophe. The story has a sacred as w r ell as a classic interest. 
Adonis was probably identical w T ith Tammuz, for whom Ezekiel 
represents the infatuated Jewish women as weeping (viii. 14); 
and our own Milton has thrown around the heathen fable and 
the prophetic vision all the charms of his matchless verse :— 



THE CITY OF THE GIBLITES. 



285 



"Thammuz came next behind, 

Whose annual wound in Lebanon allured 
The Syrian damsels to lament his fate 
In amorous ditties all a summer's day ; 
While smooth Adonis from his native rock 
Ran purple to the sea supposed with blood 
Of Thammuz, yearly wounded." 

I rode slowly on, looking up at Lebanon, as peak after peak 
revealed itself ; and now out over the boundless Mediterranean 
gleaming like burnished gold beneath the evening sun. 

GEBAL, 

I found my tent pitched under the crumbling ramparts of 
Gebal ; and dismounted at its door as the sun touched the 
water. 

Jebeil, the modern name of this town, is the diminutive of the 
Hebrew Gebal, which signifies " mountain." The city was the 
capital of the Giblites, or " mountaineers," the leading tribe of 
Lebanon in the days of Joshua (xiii. 5). The Giblites appear 
to have been an educated and an enterprising people in a very 
remote age. They were Solomon's chief architects when he 
built the Temple ; though unfortunately our English version in 
1 Kings v. 18, conceals the fact, by rendering Giblites "stone 
squarers." They were famous, too, as ship-builders ; for the 
ancients of Gebal and "the wise men thereof" were leading 
men in the dock-yards of Tyre (Ezek. xxvii. 9). 

It is most interesting to observe how fully even incidental 
allusions of the sacred writers are confirmed and illustrated by 
the facts of ancient history and the results of modern research. 
During the wars of Alexander the Great, the fleet of Gebal, or 
Byblits as the Greeks called it, was a formidable power in the 
Levant. When, on the morning after my arrival, I proceeded 
to explore the ruins, I was particularly struck with the massive and 
splendid masonry of the ancient citadel. Some of its stones are 
twenty feet long, and in their size, style, and perfection of finish, 
they closely resemble those I had before seen in the foundations 
(io) 19 



2 86 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



of the Temple at Jerusalem. May it not be that the very same 
workmen were employed in the erection of both buildings 1 

But the glory of Gebal has passed away. Its massive walls 
are rent and shattered ; its harbour is a ruin ; its navy is reduced 
to some half-dozen fishing boats ; and its population now con- 
sists of about six hundred poor peasants. 

TRIPOLI. 

A pleasant ride of eight hours took me from Gebal to Tripoli. 
My road lay still along the shore : now winding over the brow 
of a cliff, now diving down a break-neck path into a dell, now 
treading softly the pebbly shore on which the ever restless waves 
made solemn melody. Little villages, and convents, and vine- 
yards, and groves of figs and olives, tell of modern industry, and 
Lebanon's fruitfulness ; but wide-spread ruins, and shattered 
battlements, and deserted harbours, tell still more impressively 
of departed greatness. 

Tripoli is a picturesque town of thirteen thousand inhabitants, 
embosomed in gardens and orchards of orange, apricot, and 
apple trees. Its fruits rival those of Joppa and Sidon. The 
surrounding plain is a little paradise, covered with verdure, and 
sparkling with stream and fountain. A triangular promontory 
juts out from the town into the Mediterranean, and on its 
northern shore, a mile and a half distant, is the Mina or port 
of Tripoli. This promontory- was the site of the ancient city — 
the Tripolis, or " Triple City " of the Greeks, which, tradition 
says, was so named because it was founded by three colonies 
from Tyre, Sidon, and Arvad. I traced the ruins of the old 
walls along the neck of the promontory, and around its shores ; 
and I saw columns of granite and marble, with heaps of stones 
and rubbish, scattered over its surface. During the first 
Crusade, Raymond of Toulouse, built a castle inland on the 
banks of the Kadisha, for the protection of Christian pilgrims ; 
and around it the modern town has grown. 



THE GLORY OF LEBANON. 



287 



ASCENT OF LEBANON. 

The sun had not yet risen over Mount Hor (Num. xxxiv. 7) 
when I set out for the Cedars. For nearly two hours I rode 
along the northern bank of the Kadisha, where it cuts its way 
through the lower spurs of Lebanon. Then the real ascent com- 
menced. It was no child's play to climb that mountain. The 
road is a mere goat track ; now in a rocky torrent bed, now on 
the brink of a fearful ravine, now over a slippery crown of naked 
limestone, now up rude stairs that seem as if "let down from 
heaven itself." Many a bad and dangerous path I have travelled 
in Syria, but this was among the very worst. Never before, not 
even when ascending Hermon, had the mettle and the steadi- 
ness of Nezik been more severely tested. I confess, too, that 
my own nerve was sometimes tried, when I found one stirrup 
ringing against the overhanging cliff, while the other was sus- 
pended over a fathomless abyss. The path was often such as 
that which Rogers paints : — 

' ' The very path for them that dare defy 
Danger, nor shrink, wear he what shape he will ; 
That o'er the caldron, when the flood boils up, 
Hang as in air." 

But the scenery was glorious. Villages all around, clinging to 
the cliffs, or nestling away down in deep secluded dells, — con- 
vents, like feudal castles, perched on every airy crag and hill 
top, — vines springing from chinks in the rock, and sending 
their long branches in festoons down its jagged sides, — ranges 
of figs and mulberries covering terraces which the hand of in- 
dustry has formed everywhere from the bottom of the deepest 
glen to the summit of the highest peak. Little isolated patches, 
and narrow, ribbon-like strips of green corn were there too. Art 
and industry, in fact, appeared as if triumphing over nature ; 
while nature itself, in all its magnificent ruggedness, rejoiced in 
the triumph. 



288 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



On crowning each successive eminence I looked down with 
ever increasing wonder and admiration on new scenes of mingled 
richness and grandeur. It is only under such circumstances, 
and after such experience, one can thoroughly comprehend the 
meaning of the prophet when he says, " It shall blossom abun- 
dantly, and rejoice even with joy and singing, the glory of 
Lebanon shall be given unto it " (Isa. xxxv. 2) ; or of the 
psalmist when he utters the promise, " There shall be an hand- 
ful of corn in the earth upon the top of the mountains, the fruit 
thereof shall shake like Lebanon" (lxxii. 16). 

I spent the night at the village of Ehden, which for beauty 
might almost pass for an Eden. Beneath the shade of one of 
its fragrant walnuts I lay the long afternoon gazing xlreamily 
down the mountain side, and away out over the boundless sea. 
How sweet and fresh on that balmly evening, when the dew 
began to fall, was " the smell of Lebanon " ! 

The direct road from Ehden to the Cedars contains nothing 
of interest, so I rode down in the early morning to Kanobin, 
the most celebrated of the Maronite convents, and the chief 
residence of the Patriarch. Its site is singularly romantic. A 
little above it the glen of the Kadisha contracts to a sublime 
chasm, its rocky walls rising perpendicularly a thousand feet on 
each side, and in places not leaving room for a footpath beside 
the stream that foams along the bottom. On a ledge of one of 
these stupendous cliffs, partly natural and partly artificial, stands 
Kanobin. Its church and some of its cells are hewn in the rock; 
and many a strange and stirring legend is told of the fathers 
who excavated and inhabited them. The Patriarch was absent, 
but I was kindly and hospitably received by the monks. In 
going round their shrines I could not suppress feelings of 
shame — almost of horror, at the parody of Christianity which 
is there exhibited. Except in name the church at Kanobin 
differs little from the shrines of Baal, which probably occupied 
the same place in the days of the old Giblites. 



THE CEDARS OF LEBANON. 



289 



The road from Kanobin to the Cedars passes through some 
of the grandest and richest scenery in Lebanon. It winds 
up the glen of the Kadisha, which gradually expands into 
terraced slopes, covered with vineyards, and the brilliant foli- 
age of the mulberry. Picturesque cottages, and the mansions 
of hereditary sheikhs, here grouped together, there scattered 
singly among gardens and orchards, stud the whole banks. 
The cultivation is wonderful. Every little dell away down 
beneath overhanging cliffs, every nook and corner among the 
jagged rocks, every ledge and cranny on precipice side, which 
the foot of man can reach, or on which a basket of earth can 
be deposited, is occupied with vine, or mulberry, or patch of 
grain. 

THE CEDARS. 

At the head of Wady Kadisha is a vast recess in the cen- 
tral ridge of Lebanon. Round it in a semicircle rise the 
loftiest peaks of the range, their summits glittering with per- 
petual snow. The sides of the recess are smooth, white, 
uniform, and perfectly bare; and in its centre, on the top of 
a limestone knoll, far removed from all other foliage and 
verdure, stand, in strange solitude, the Cedars of Lebanon. 
Seen from a distance, the little grove is but a speck on the 
mountain side; and the first feeling of the pilgrim who has 
travelled far to visit it is that of bitter disappointment. But 
when he enters all such feelings vanish. Then the beautiful 
fan-like branches, and graceful forms of the younger trees, 
the colossal trunks of the patriarchs, and their great gnarled 
arms stretching far out to embrace their brethren, and the 
deep and sombre shade amid that blaze of sunshine, — all com- 
bine to excite his admiration. 

The grove is scarcely half a mile in circuit, and in some 
places is not dense. It contains only about four hundred 
trees of all sizes. A dozen of them are very ancient, one or 
two measuring upwards of forty feet in girth, and the others 



290 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



not much less; but their trunks are short, and are much hacked 
and hewn by the vandalism of travellers. Thirty or forty 
others are of very respectable dimensions — three, four, and 
even five feet in diameter. The younger trees are mostly in 
the outskirts of the grove, and the patriarchs in the centre. 
The grove would increase were it not that the seedlings are 
either cropped by goats, or broken by shepherds. At present 
there are no very young trees. 

This was my second visit to the Cedars; and the impres- 
sion made upon my mind was even deeper than before, — pro- 
bably in part owing to the solitude. My former visit was 
during the annual feast, when the grove was filled with noise 
and riot. Now, not a living creature was there, and the snow 
wreaths still lay deep around the sacred trees. I had ample 
time to examine their grandeur and beauty, and to meditate on 
their long and glorious history. And as I looked, I could 
not wonder that the Hebrews regarded them with almost re- 
ligious veneration, and that their prophets called them the 
"trees of the Lord" (Ps. civ. 16), and the place where they 
grew "the garden of God" (Ezek. xxxi. 8). Nor could I 
wonder that Hebrew poets selected such graceful foliage, and 
stately forms, and colossal trunks, as emblems of pride, and 
majesty, and power. "The day of the Lord of hosts," writes 
Isaiah, " shall be upon every one that is proud and lofty, and 
upon every one that is lifted up, and he shall be brought low; 
a?id upon all the cedars of Lebanon that are high and lifted up" 
(ii. 12, 13). And Ezekiel says, "Behold, the Assyrian was a 
cedar in Lebanon with fair branches, .... and of an high sta- 
ture; .... his height was exalted above all the trees of the field" 
&c. (xxxi. 3, &c.) 

As I sat there alone in the Cedar Grove, the Psalmist's 
magnificent picture of a storm was brought more vividly before 
my mind than ever it had been before. A huge branch of one 
of the oldest trees had recently been broken by a tempest, and 



A STORM ON LEBANON. 



291 



in its fall had partly destroyed a younger tree. There it lay 
before my eyes, amid the ruin it had caused, as if to show the 
power of the storm, and to illustrate the words of the Psalmist. 
I read the words, looking out, as I read, upon those " great 
waters" whence the voice of the storm came, and upon those 
mountain sides up which it rolled, and upon those cedars which 
it brake : — 

" The voice of Jehovah is upon the waters ; 
The God of glory thundereth : 
Jehovah is upon great waters. 
The voice of Jehovah is power ; 
The voice of Jehovah is majesty. 
The voice of Jehovah breaketh the cedars, 
Jehovah breaketh the cedars of Lebanon ; 
He maketh them skip like a calf. " 

(Ps. xxix. 3-6.) 

A piece of the broken branch I afterwards obtained, and 
brought to this country; and I retain some of it still in its 
natural state. Having read many contradictory accounts of 
the quality and beauty of cedar-wood, I resolved to put it to 
the test. I gave the branch into the hands of a skilful work- 
man, who made me an ornamental piece of furniture out of a 
portion of it. He pronounced the wood to be of the first 
quality — " almost as hard as oak, with a grain as close as 
box." It takes a high finish, and the carving stands sharp and 
perfect. In appearance it does not differ much from pine; but 
its colour is deeper and richer. It retains its fragrance as fresh 
and strong as when first cut. Should any of my readers wish 
to see genuine cedar-wood from Lebanon, if they will favour 
me with a visit, I shall feel great pleasure in gratifying them. 

THE TEMPLES OF LEBANON. 

From the cedars I turned southward, following a path I had 
travelled before, and have described elsewhere. It was now 
both difficult and dangerous, for the snow lay deep, and the 
summer streamlets were converted into foaming torrents. 



292 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



On the second day I reached the fountain of the Adonis at 
Afka. It bursts from a cave at the foot of a stupendous cliff, 
and its foaming waters rush down into a wild chasm. The 
ruins of the Temple of Venus, built, tradition says, on the spot 
where Adonis fell, lie strewn over a little mound by the cave's 
mouth, and some of the massive stones and granite columns 
are now in the bottom of the torrent bed. 

Hence I rode along the flank of Jebel Sunnin, which rose 
on my left, a spotless pyramid of snow. Passing the upper 
sources of the Nahr el-Kelb, and the chasm spanned by the 
natural bridge, I revisited the castle and temples of Fukra. 
One temple is in part hewn in the rock ; another, simple, 
massive, and grand even in its desolation, is of the oldest 
type. These were doubtless shrines of Baal or Tammuz, built 
by the Giblites in remote ages. 

Crossing another sublime glen, which sends a little tributary 
to the Dog River, I clambered up vine-clad slopes to the 
Greek Convent of Mar Elias, situated on the summit of a 
cliff commanding a wild and wide panorama of mountain and 
sea. 

After a short stay I again mounted and proceeded to Buk- 
feiya, and received a hospitable welcome in the palace of the 
Emir, one of the hereditary princes of Lebanon. The site is 
charming. One would never weary looking down through the 
vista of the magnificent valley of the Dog River. The gardens, 
vineyards, ng and olive groves, that encircle the houses and 
clothe the steep slopes below, bear noble testimony to the 
fruitfulness of Lebanon. The peaks above the village rise so 
steeply, and bristle so with pointed rocks, that cultivation is 
impossible. Yet even there the brilliant foliage of the ilex, 
which springs out of every rent, contrasts beautifully with the 
white limestone; while away along the serried top of the ridge, 
where the sandstone crops out, are thickets of pines. 



RUINS OF DEIR EL-KULAH. 



293 



TEMPLE OF BAAL. 

Deir el-Kulah is five miles south of Bukfeiya, but the road 
is so bad and tortuous that it took me nearly as many hours 
to reach it. The name signifies " the convent of the castle," 
and is descriptive, a convent having been built on the ruins of an 
old fortress. It stands on the crest of a narrow and lofty ridge, 
round whose base sweeps the wild glen of the Magoras. The 
stream is fifteen hundred feet below, winding out and in among 
dark foliage like a thread of silver. Eastward the eye wanders up 
the valley of Metn among villages, and vineyards, and mulberry 
groves, and pine forests, till it rests on the snowy peak of 
Keniseh. North and south extend mountain sides, rich and 
rugged, far as the eye can see; and on the west the plain of 
Beyrout is at our feet, with its wastes of white sand on the one 
side, and its bright city embowered in verdure on the other ; 
while beyond is the boundless expanse of the Mediterranean; — 
not quite boundless, however, for when the glow of sunset 
mantles the horizon, the hills of far-distant Cyprus, overtopped 
by classic Olympus, rise in clear outline. 

The ruins at Deir el-Kulah include an ancient village, a castle 
or citadel, and a temple. The latter is the most interesting. 
It is one hundred and six feet long, and fifty-four broad. Its 
portico had a double range of columns, six feet in diameter; 
and some of the stones in the walls measure fourteen feet by 
five and a half. I saw, as others had seen before me, several 
Greek inscriptions. They are short and fragmentary, but 
fortunately long enough to throw light on the origin and object 
of the building. One contains a dedication to " Baal-markos, 
Sovereign Lord of Sports." Baal is often mentioned in the Bible. 
To him most of the "high places" in Palestine were dedicated. 
Among the Phoenicians he was the chief object of worship, and 
his worship was introduced into Israel by the infamous " Jezebel, 
daughter of Eth-Baal, king of the Sidonians" (1 Kings xvi. 31X 



294 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



In the Bible this deity is called by the different names, Baal 
berith, "Lord of the Covenant" (Judges ix. 4); Baal-zebub> 
"Lord of flies" (2 Kings i. 2); and Baal-peor (Num. xxv. 1). 
So here we have a temple dedicated to Baal-markos, the " Lord 
of Sports." It was doubtless one of the great centres of Phoe- 
nician idolatry, where the kinsfolk and townsfolk of Jezebel 
joined in their lascivious rites. 

From time immemorial Lebanon has been a grand centre of 
superstition and idolatry. Temples crowned almost every 
height, and sanctuaries were consecrated in almost every grove ; 
" On every high hill, in all the tops of the mountains, and under 
every green tree, and under every thick oak, they did offer sweet 
savour to all their idols" (Ezek. vi. 13). Time has not changed 
it. Professing a different faith, and called by a different name, 
the religious spirit of its people remains the same. Their con- 
vents are now as numerous as their idol shrines ever were; and 
could the old Giblites and Phoenicians again revisit their 
country, they would find it hard to distinguish the saints and 
angels that deck the Christian altars from the images of their 
own deities. 

From Deir el-Kulah I descended to Beyrout, having thus 
traversed nearly the whole Maronite section of Lebanon. 

THE DRUSES AND THEIR MOUNTAIN HOME. 

" Fierce, hardy, proud, in conscious freedom bold, 
Those stormy seats the warrior Druses hold ; 
From Norman blood their lofty line they trace, 
Their Hon courage proves their generous race : 
They, only they, while all around them kneel 
In sullen homage to the Thracian steel, 
Teach their pale despots' waning moon to fear 
The patriot terrors of the mountain spear." 

I have explored every interesting nook and corner in southern 
Lebanon, the home of the Druses. I shall here, however, give 
only a brief sketch of one short tour which led me through the 
cream of the country, and at the best season— the vintage. 



THE DRUSES. 



2 95 



I left Beyrout for Deir el-Kamr on a sunny afternoon, early 
m September. My only companion was my servant, a moun- 
taineer, who knew every inch of the road as well as I did my- 
self. The distance is five hours, and the path none of the best. 
The first hour is in the plain wading through deep sands under 
the shade of a pine forest, and then winding among mulberry 
gardens. There are more palms here than one is acustomed to 
see in Syria or Palestine — not in groves like Egypt, but singly 
and in clumps of three or four. 

The foot of the mountain is reached and the ascent begins 
by a track, more like the rocky bed of a winter torrent, than a 
highway to the capital of Lebanon. But as we mount the 
ruggedness is forgotten, and we are enraptured with the variety, 
the richness, and the extent of the views. We miss here, how- 
ever, the close and careful cultivation of the Maronite district 
The vines are not so well trained, and here and there are long 
reaches of mountain side, where the old terraces are broken 
and the soil waste. The Druses are warriors rather than 
husbandmen. They delight in arms more than in vineyards. 
One notices this as soon as he enters their country. He reads 
it in their looks. The flashing eye, and haughty step, and calm 
demeanour, are not the characteristics of a son of toil. The 
trim beard, and spotless white turban, and long dagger proclaim 
the soldier rather than the peasant. Still the Druses are not 
wanting in industry, and were they under a wise rule much 
might be made of them. 

The costume of the women in this part of Lebanon, Druses 
and Christians alike, is strange and striking. Here one sees 
at every fountain that most singular of all the singularities of 
female dress or ornament — the tantfir. It is a tube or horn, 
of gold or silver, from one to two feet long, and about two 
inches in diameter, tapering slightly. To the lower end are 
fastened a number of silver knobs by siken cords a yard in 
length. The horn is placed erect on the top of the head, 



296 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



strapped round the chin, and balanced by the silver knobs which 
hang down the back. Over the whole is thrown a long veil of 
white muslin, which at the pleasure of the wearer is either per- 
mitted to descend in graceful folds behind, or is brought round 
so as to conceal both face and figure. Such is the ordinary 
costume of the matrons of Lebanon ; and whatever may be said 
of its absurdity, there can be no doubt that it gives a grace and 
dignity to the carriage worthy of imitation in more favoured 
lands. The tantur is the first requisite of the bride ; for maidens 
are not permitted to wear it. Its origin is unknown, and it is 
very questionable whether it is to it the Psalmist alludes (lxxv. 4). 

A DRUSE WEDDING. 

On approaching the village of Ain 'Anub we were somewhat 
startled by hearing dropping shots, and seeing troops of horse- 
men galloping hither and thither along the mountain side. We 
soon learned that it was the wedding of one of the hereditary 
Sheikhs; and I was invited to halt an hour and see the fete. I 
gladly consented. 

The ordinary mode of procedure on the wedding day is this. 
Some Druse priests, accompanied by a few of the bridegroom's 
relatives, go to the bride's house, which, in this instance, was 
in a neighbouring village. After drawing up and reading the 
marriage contract, the bride, in her richest attire, and completely 
enveloped in a veil of white and gold, is placed on a horse 
covered with superb housings, and led off to her husband. A 
long train of relatives and friends, male and female, in holiday 
costume, follow her. When they get within half a mile oil so of 
her husband's village, his friends and retainers — amounting in 
the present case to several hundreds — sally out, and a mock 
combat ensues. Both parties being armed, and well trained in 
mountain warfare, the scene becomes intensely exciting. From 
behind rocks and trees, from the tops of cliffs, from every point 
of vantage, volleys of musketry —blank of course — are poured 



THE MASSACRE OF DEIR EL- K AMR. 297 

upon the advancing troop. The horsemen charge and retreat. 
Step by step the bridegroom's party retire, contesting every 
inch; and at length amid ringing cheers, and shrill cries of 
women, and salvos of musk'etry, the bride enters the village in 
triumph, and is hurried away to the harim. There she is left 
alone, still enveloped in her veil, to await her husband who 
has never yet seen her face. After some time he enters, re- 
spectfully lifts the veil, takes one look, immediately replaces it, 
and returns to his guests. The revels go on often for many 
days 

The sun had long set ere I entered Deir el-Kamr. 

THE MASSACRE OF i860. 

Deir el-Kamr is, or rather was seven years ago, a beautiful 
little town of seven thousand souls, built high up on the side 
of a wild glen, and encompassed by terraced vineyards and 
orchards. The castle, occupied by a Turkish garrison, crowns 
a cliff ; and on the opposite side of the glen stands the beautiful 
palace of the Emir Beshir, the former governor of Lebanon. 
The steep and richly wooded bank leading up to it, the com- 
manding site, the vast mass of picturesque buildings, and the 
wooded hill behind, all remind one of the Castle of Heidelberg. 
For years the palace has been turned into a barrack ; and the 
Turks are doing there what they have done everywhere; — they 
are fast reducing its splendid courts, and marble halls, and gilt 
saloons, to ruin. 

Deir el-Kamr has suffered more from the hereditary strife of 
Druse and Maronite than any other place in Lebanon. Being 
an exclusively Christian town, in the centre of a Druse district, 
it has ever borne the first brunt of battle, and has repeatedly 
been burned to ashes. But the most fearful tragedy, even in 
its sad history, was enacted in i860. At the commencement 
of the outbreak in that year, the town was taken and plundered 
by the Druses, who, after burning Zahleh, returned to complete 



298 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



the work of destruction. The unfortunate inhabitants resolved 
to defend their lives to the last, for they knew too well the fate 
that awaited them. The rest of the sad tale I shall give in the 
words of one who was all but an eye-witness.* " The Turkish 
governor, who had four hundred troops in the castle, while at 
Bteddin, half a mile off, there were three hundred more, told 
the people they had nothing to fear if they would give him up 
their arms; and he insisted on their doing so. They applied 
for an escort to Beyrout; this he would in no wise permit. 
Their valuables he made them place in the castle, and then 
ordered a great part of the population there. So men, women, 
and children were all crowded together in the palace, under his 
protection, on the night of the 20th. On the morning of the 
21st, the Druses collected round the town; one of their leaders 
came to the palace and desired to speak with the governor. 

A conversation was carried on in a low voice At last a 

question was asked to which the governor gave the answer, 
Hepsi, that is, ' all.' Hereupon the Druse disappeared, but in 
a few minutes the gate was thrown open, and in rushed the 
fiends, cutting down and slaughtering every male; the soldiers 
co-operating !" 

Twelve hundred men were massacred on that fatal day! 

SOUTHERN LEBANON. 

At six o'clock I was again in the saddle, and in an hour drew 
up upon the brow of Wady Baruk, four miles south of Deir el- 
Kamr, and one of the richest and wildest glens in Lebanon. 
High up on its southern bank stands the village of Mukhtara, 
and the palace of the late Said Bey, the Chief of the Druses. 
It is a building of great size, occupying a splendid site; but 
with no pretensions to architectural beauty. After a hurried 
visit to the Bey, whom I had known before, and who now in- 

* Cyril C. Graham, Esq, 



VIEW FROM LEBANON. 



299 



sisted on sending a couple of horsemen with me, I continued 
my journey. 

Our path lay along the terraced mountain side, often beneath 
the spreading branches of fragrant walnuts. We looked down 
into the lovely valley of Baruk, and away over a wooded ridge 
beyond it to the Mediterranean. Village after village was 
passed, and vineyard after vineyard. Ever and anon boys and 
girls came rushing out with bunches of luscious grapes that 
would have done honour to the vines of Eshcol, and prayed 
the Bey to accept their offering. 

Leaving the vale of Baruk we struck up Wady Jezzin ; and 
passing a large village of that name, we ascended through a 
bleak and rugged region to the southern brow of Lebanon. 
The scene which here suddenly burst upon our view was magni- 
ficent. Four thousand feet and more beneath where we stood, 
was the deep chasm of the Leontes, which intersects the range, 
carrying the waters of Ccele-Syria to the Mediterranean. Over 
it frowned the massive battlements of the Castle of Shukif, founded 
by the Phoenicians to guard the road to their agricultural colony 
at Laish. On the east rose Hermon, its icy crown gleaming 
in the ruddy sunshine. At its base were the plains of Ijon 
(1 Kings xv. 20), and Dan (Judges xviii. 7-10), extending in 
green meadows to the Waters of Merom (Josh xi. 5). On the 
south lay the picturesque mountain chain of Naphtali, over 
which appeared on the horizon the pale blue hills of Samaria. 
And away on the right was the wavy coast line running along 
from the shattered battlements of Tyre to the distant Cape of 
Carmel. In fact the whole northern division of Palestine was 
before my eyes, every feature brought out in bold relief by the 
evening sun. It was one of those pictures which time can 
never efface from memory. 

The descent to the banks of the Leontes was long and toil- 
some. Crossing the stream by the old bridge of Burghos, we 
attempted to reach a small village near it, where we intended 



3°° 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



to pass the night ; but we lost our way, and were obliged to 
halt under a large oak-tree. Tying my horse to a branch, I 
wrapped my cloak around me and was soon asleep. My com- 
panions followed my example; and next day we proceeded to 
Rasheiya, whence I went to Damascus. Thus terminated my 
tour in Southern Lebanon. 



II. 

gamaffr unit % lfar%rn ^atbuc rrf JsmJL 

" This shall be your north border. From the Great Sea ye shall point out for you Mount 
Hor : from Mount Hor ye shall point out unto the entrance of Hamath ; and the 
goings forth of the border shall be to Zedad : and the border shall go on to Ziphron, 
and the goings out of it shall be at Hazar-enan : This shall be your north border." — 
Num. xxxiv. 7-9. 

ROM Dan to Beersheba" was in olden days the 
popular expression for "all Palestine." "The throne 
of David was set over Israel from Dan even to 
Beersheba" (2 Sam. hi. 10); "The king said to Joab, Go now 
through all the tribes of Israel, from Dan even to Beersheba, 
and number the people, that I may know the number of the 
people" (xxiv. 2). The phrase has become a world's proverb ; 
and yet I have reason to believe that it is often misunderstood 
by Biblical students ; and I know that it formed the basis of 
one of the grossest blunders in Bishop Colenso's unfortunate 
book — that in which he compares the numbers of the Israelites 
with the extent of Canaan."* 

Dan and Beersheba were the northern and southern limits of 
the country allotted to the twelve tribes by Joshua, and 
actually possessed by them. Two other land-marks are also 
mentioned by the sacred historian. " So Joshua took all that 
land. . . . from the mount Halak that goeth up to Seir, even 
unto Baal-gad in the valley of Lebanon under mount Hermon" 
(Josh. xi. 17); and again, "These are the kings which Israel 

* Pentateuch, Part I. p. 82. 
(10) 20 




3° 2 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



smote . . . from Baal-gad in the valley of Lebanon even unto 
mount Halak that goeth up to Seir, which Joshua gave unto 
the tribes of Israel for a possession" (xii. 7). Mount Halak 
was in the parallel of Beersheba, and Baal-gad is identical with 
Banias, four miles east of Dan. These then were the limits of 
what we may call "the land of possession." "The land of 
promise " was much larger. Its boundaries are defined in the 
words of the Lord to Abraham : — " In the same day the Lord 
made a covenant with Abraham, saying, Unto thy seed have I 
given this land, from the river of Egypt unto the great river, the 
river Euphrates" (Gen. xv. 18). The promise was renewed to 
Israel in the desert, — " I will set thy bounds from the Red Sea 
even unto the sea of the Philistines, and from the desert (of Sinai) 
unto the river" (Euphrates). This wide territory, extending 
from Egypt on the south to the banks of the Euphrates on the 
north, was promised upon conditions; the people were on their 
part- to be faithful and obedient to their God, — "If thou shalt 
indeed obey his voice, and do all that I speak, then . . . mine 
angel shall go before thee and bring thee," &c. (Exod. 
xxiii. 22-31). Israel did not fulfil the conditions, and, there- 
fore, the whole land was not given to them; "And the anger 
of the Lord was hot against Israel, and he said, Because that 
this people hath transgressed my covenant which I commanded 
their fathers, and have not hearkened unto my voice, I also will 
not henceforth drive out from before them of the nations 7vhich 
Joshua left when he died" &c. (Judges ii. 20-23 ; compare Josh, 
xxiii. 13-16). 

These facts were unknown to Bishop Colenso ; or, if known, 
they were unfairly overlooked, and hence the force of one of 
his most telling but most sophistical objections to the truth of 
the Divine Record. 

Before the death of Moses a distinct revelation was given to 
him of the boundaries of the country which Israel was to occupy. 
It is a singular fact that these were different both from those in 



ANSWER TO CO LENS V. 



the Abrahamic covenant, and those of " the land of possession." 
On the south the border line reached from Kadesh to the river 
of Egypt (Num. xxxiv. 4, 5); while on the north it is thus de- 
scribed : — " This shall be your north border ; from the Great 
Sea ye shall point out for you Mount Hor ; from Mount Hor 
ye shall point out unto the entrance of Hamath ; and the goings 
forth of the border shall be to Zedad ; and the border shall go 
on to Ziphron, and the goings out of it shall be at Hazar-enan " 
(verses 7-9). Dan, as has been stated, was the northern limit 
of " the land of possession." Hamath is one hundred and 
twenty miles north of Dan. The ranges of Lebanon and Anti- 
Lebanon, the valley of Ccele-Syria, and the plain of Hamath, 
lie between them. This fact explains Joshua xiii. After the 
division of the country "from Dan to Beersheba" among the 
tribes by Joshua, a large part of the territory promised to Moses 
still remained, and is minutely described. The section lying 
on the north is as follows: "The land of the Giblites, and all 
Lebanon toward the sun rising (Anti-Lebanon), from Baal-gad 
under Mount Hermon, unto the entering into Hamath; all the 
inhabitants of the hill country from Lebanon unto Misrephoth- 
maim, and all the Sidonians" (verses 5, 6). 

It will thus be seen that the country given in covenant to 
Abraham extended from the river of Egypt to the Euphrates ; 
that promised to Moses extended from the river of Egypt to 
the entrance of Hamath ; while the phrase " from Dan to Beer- 
sheba " only embraced the territory actually divided by Joshua 
among the tribes. 

" A land of promise " is still in store for the ancient people 
of God. Ezekiel in prophetic vision gives its boundaries, which 
correspond at all points except the east with those of Moses. 
It is only with the north I have to do at present ; and Ezekiel 
defines it as follows : — " This shall be the border of the land 
toward the north side, from the Great Sea, the way of Hethlon, 
as men go to Zedad; Hamath, Berothah, Sibraim, which is 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



between the border of Damascus and the border of Hamath ; 
Hazor-hatticon, which is by the coast of Hauran. And the 
border from the sea shall be Hazar-enan" (xlvii. 15-17). 

These northern marches do not lie in the usual route of tra- 
vellers. Comparatively little has been written about them. 
Yet among them were laid the scenes of some of the most 
tragic events of Jewish history. In addition to holy and his- 
toric interest, therefore, a visit to the leading places may have 
the charm of novelty. 

HAMATH. 

Hamath is a quaint old city. If one could fancy Pompeii 
restored and repeopled with the men and women whose 
mouldering bones are now being dug up from its ruins, it would 
not present a greater contrast to the modern cities of the west 
than Hamath. For thirty centuries or more, life has been at a 
stand-still there. Everything is patriarchal — costume, manners, 
salutations, occupations. The venerable elders, who, with 
turbaned heads, flowing beards, and flowing robes, sit daily in 
the gates, might pass for the elders of the children of Heth 
who bargained with Abraham in the gates of Kirjath-arba ; and 
the Arab sheikhs, who ever and anon pass in and out, armed 
with sword and spear, are no unworthy representatives of the 
fiery Ishmael. There is no town in the world in which primeval 
life can be seen in such purity as in Hamath. The people 
glory in it. No greater insult could be offered to them than to 
contrast Hamath with the cities of the infidel. 

The site of Hamath is picturesque. It stands in the deep 
glen of the Orontes, whose broad rapid stream divides it through 
the centre. The banks are lined with poplars, and the queer 
houses rise like terraces along the steep slopes. Four bridges 
span the stream, and connect the two quarters of the city. The 
remains of antiquity are nearly all gone ; the citadel is a vast 
mound of rubbish ; the mosques are falling to ruin ; and the 



HAM A TH'S HISTOR V, 



private houses, though in a few cases splendidly decorated 
within, are shapeless piles of mud and timber. 

But the great curiosities of Hamath are its Persian wheels, 
numbers of which are ranged along the river side, turned by the 
current, and raise water to supply the mosques, houses, and 
gardens. Like everything else they are old and crazy ; and as 
they turn lazily round they creak, and groan, now in deep bass, 
now in shrill treble, and now in horrid concert of jarring sounds. 
In the still summer evening when the shadows fall upon the 
river banks, hiding the rippling water and the labouring wheels, 
and when silence reigns over the streets and houses of the old 
city, these strange sounds swell up from the gathering gloom, 
and echo through the valley, as if the spirits of evil had broken 
from their prison-house, and were rilling the air with shriek 
and wail. 

Hamath takes rank among the oldest cities of the world, 
having been founded by the youngest son of Canaan, some 
four thousand years ago (Gen. x. 18). It was already the 
capital of a kingdom at the Exodus. During the warlike rule 
of David it was forced to yield allegiance to Israel (2 Sam. 
viii. 9); but at a later period Hamath had attained to such 
power that Amos distinguished it by the name " great " (vi. 2) ; 
and the Assyrian monarch spoke of its conquest as among the 
most celebrated of his achievements (2 Kings xviii. 34). When 
the kingdom of the Seleucidae was established in northern 
Syria the name Hamath was changed to Epiphania, in honour 
of Antiochus Epiphanes, but on the overthrow of Greek power 
the Greek name disappeared ; and we have to this day the old 
Hebrew appellation retained in its Arabic form Hamah. 

Hamah has still thirty thousand inhabitants. It has for many 
centuries been the residence of a remnant of the old Mohamme- 
dan aristocracy — a race now distinguished for poverty, pride, 
and fanaticism. They are the determined enemies of all change 
alike in religion, literature, art, and social life. The age of 



3o6 NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 

Mohammed is their golden age; and the literature of the Koran 
the only literature worthy of the name. Wherever one meets 
with or sees them strutting through the dingy streets, sitting in 
the gates, or at their devotions in the mosque, he is immediately 
reminded of the Pharisee's prayer, " God, I thank thee that I 
am not as other men are." 

I once met a distinguished member of this proud race at the 
house of a learned and liberal Moslem friend in Damascus. 
The conversation turned on the progress of art and science in 
Western Europe. Railways, steam-engines, printing-presses, 
the electric telegraph, and many other triumphs of modern 
discovery, were spoken of. He listened with perfect calmness 
and indifference ; and as he haughtily stroked his beard he now 
and again muttered a few words, among which I could detect 
the not very complimentary kaferin (" infidels "). A beautiful 
copy of the Koran, a gem of the Leipzig press, was put into 
his hand. He opened it. " It is printed," he exclaimed, throw- 
ing it from him and wiping his fingers as if the very touch was 
pollution. 

I drew his attention to the comparative state of England and 
the East, both in ancient and modern times. I showed him 
that there must be something wrong in the latter — some griev- 
ous defect in its government, and in its faith — when such a 
fatal check was put upon the advance of art and civiliza- 
tion. His reply was singularly characteristic of the state of 
feeling among all orthodox Mohammedans. It explains also, 
as I believe, the true source of Turkish misrule, " The Franks," 
said he, " possess the wisdom and the power of janns (evil 
spirits); but Allah has reserved for us alone the true religion. 
Lillah el-mejd^ glory be to God ! " 

THE LAND OF HAMATH. 

Emerging from the glen, in which the city stands, we find 
ourselves in an open undulating plain, bleak and bare. A patch 



AN ARAB RAID. 



of grain here, a shepherd and his flock yonder, and a party of 
Arab horsemen hovering on the horizon, are the only objects 
that break the monotony of the dreary ride across it. The 
little excitement of danger one almost feels to be a relief here. 
Shade there is none, and green grass, except it happen to be 
the spring season, is nowhere seen. The Orontes is hid in its 
deep bed some miles to the eastward. 

Three hours sharp riding along the line of an old Roman 
highway brings us again to the brow of a ravine, and looking 
down the steep, rugged bank, we see the yellow river shooting 
along far below, between rows of willows that stoop to ki^s 
its murmuring waters. A bridge of ten arches, and bearing the 
marks of Roman, Saracen, and Turkish architects, spans the 
channel. Crossing it and clambering up the southern bank, 
we stand amid the ruins of Arethusa, an ancient episcopal city. 
Traces of walls, and gates, and streets, and churches, and fields 
surrounding them are here, all now ruined and forsaken. 

After wandering for a time among the ruins I discovered a 
poor gipsy crouching in terror beneath a shattered wall. He 
was the only living being in Arethusa, and his tale was sad 
enough. The day before he was rich and happy, the head of 
a numerous family and of an attached tribe. Now he was alone, 
and a beggar. The tents of his people had been pitched on 
the banks of the Orontes; their camels and goats were feeding 
on the plain. A troop of Anezeh came suddenly upon' them 
and swept them all away, camels, goats, tents, women, children. 
He with his two sons escaped by plunging into the river and 
swimming across. His sons were on the track of the plun- 
derers, and he was lurking here in the hope of being able dur- 
ing the night to effect the release of his family, and perhaps also 
to recover his flocks or a sufficient equivalent. Property is as 
insecure still on the borders of the Arabian desert as it was in 
the days of Job (Job i. 14, 15). 

About three miles east of Arethusa is the little village of 



3 o8 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



Zifrun, probably identical with Ziphron, which Moses mentions 
as one of the border cities of "the promised land" (Num. 
xxxiv. 9). 

I was anxious to visit the village, so as to make a full survey 
of the northern "marches;" but the Anezeh were reported to 
be encamped near it, and the whole plain was scoured by their 
horsemen. My servants and guide refused to accompany me. 
They even refused to travel to Hums by the east bank of the 
river, for they said the Arabs would see and plunder us. There 
is a path along the west bank, but it is very long and very bad, 
and I determined not to take it whatever might happen. See- 
ing that arguments were vain, and that the sun was getting low, 
I spurred my horse and dashed away along the direct route. 
My servants reluctantly followed. We met only two Anezeh 
cavaliers, and they thought it prudent to let us pass. The 
muezzin was calling the "faithful" to evening prayers when we 
entered the gate of Emesa. 

EMESA. 

The Arab Hums, and Roman Emesa, has little of historical 
or antiquarian interest to attract the traveller. It is a clean, com- 
pact, bustling town of twenty thousand inhabitants, surrounded 
by old walls barely sufficient to repel a sudden foray of Bedawin. 
It was celebrated in classic times for a magnificent temple 
dedicated to the Syrian sun-god, whose priests were princes of 
the land. One of them became Roman emperor, and is usually 
called by the name of his deity, Elagabalus. Emesa was 
unknown in history before the days of Strabo; but it is just 
possible that it may be identical with the Biblical Zobah, which 
was situated between Hamath and Damascus (1 Kings xi. 23; 
1 Chron. xviii. 3), and which King David conquered when 
endeavouring to gain for Israel the whole land embraced in the 
Abrahamic covenant. Such I take to be the meaning of 2 
Sam viii. 3 ; " David smote also Hadadezer, son of Rehob, 



THE ENTRANCE OF HAM A TH. 



king of Zoab as he went to recover his border at the rivet 
Euphrates" (compare Gen. xv. 18). 

Not a vestige of Roman Emesa is now visible except a few 
marble and granite columns scattered about the streets, and 
built up in the modern walls. The mound on which the citadel, 
and probably also the temple, once stood, is like an immense 
rubbish heap, and reminds one of the mounds of Nineveh and 
Babylon. Like them it might richly repay the labour of exca- 
vation. There are many other similar mounds on the neigh- 
bouring plain. This measures a quarter of a mile in circuit and 
upwards of a hundred feet in height. From its summit I got 
a most commanding view of the " land of Hamath." It is a 
vast plain, stretching on the east and north to the horizon, and 
shut in on the south and west by mountain ridges. It embraces 
a circuit not less than fifty miles in diameter; and through it 
from north to south winds the Orontes. A short distance west 
of Emesa is Bahr Kades, a lake eight miles long, partly, if not 
entirely, artificial, formed by a great dam drawn across the bed 
of the river. The water thus raised is conducted by canals to 
the gardens and orchards of the town. 

What a noble plain must this have been in the days of Syria's 
prosperity ! Teeming with an industrious population ; studded 
with towns and villages whose sites are now marked by shape- 
less mounds. A rich soil, abundant water, a genial clime; — 
"all the gifts that heaven and earth impart" are here. But 
they are all wasted. The land of Hamath is desolate ; the cities 
of Zobah are forsaken. 

" THE ENTRANCE OF HAMATH." 

Standing on the top of the ruined citadel, I saw on the western 
side of the plain a great opening or pass through the mountains. 
On its southern side the ridge of Lebanon rises abruptly to a 
height of ten thousand feet; and on its northern, the lower 
ridge of Bargylus terminates in a bluff promontory. Between 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



the two lies the only opening from the land of Hamath to the 
coast of the Mediterranean. This is unquestionably " the 
entrance of Hamath," mentioned repeatedly by the sacred 
writers as one of the landmarks on the northern border. "This," 
said Moses, " shall be your north border. From the great sea 
ye shall point out for you Mount Hor. From Mount Hor ye 
shall point out your border unto the entrance of Hamath " (Num. 
xxxiv. 7, 8). 

Afterwards, both when sailing along the Syrian coast, and 
when standing on the plain of Phoenicia, I saw, with still more 
distinctness, this remarkable pass. I saw then how graphic 
was the description of Moses. He states that the western 
border of the land was "the great sea." Then he adds, " From 
the great sea (the Mediterranean) ye shall point out for you 
Mount Hor." The Hebrew is Hor-ha-har, "the mountain of 
the mountain;" that is, emphatically, "the great mountain." It 
was there before me — the majestic northern peak of Lebanon, 
the loftiest mountain in Syria ; its glittering crown encircled by 
a halo of silvery clouds. 

" From Mount Hor ye shall point out your border unto the 
entra?ice of Hamath" that is, "the entrance" from the great sea. 
There is but one, and it cannot be mistaken. That pass 
between Lebanon and Bargylus is the only opening from the 
coast into the land of Hamath. I have been told that to this 
day it is called by the people of Tripoly Bab Hamah, "the door 
of Hamath." 

From "the entrance" the border line was drawn north-east 
toward the city of Hamath; then south-east by Ziphron, Zedad, 
and Hazar-enan (Num. xxxiv. 8, 9). Ziphron we have already 
seen in the distance ; and we shall now visit the other two. 

A NIGHT MARCH TO ZEDAD. 

During one of my visits to Emesa I met with a Jacobite 
priest from the "desert village" of Sudud, the ancient Zedad 



THE JACOBITES OF SUDUD. 



311 



I felt a deep interest in him and his flock. The Sududiyeh are 
all members of the Jacobite Church, and constitute the only 
remnant of that ancient sect in Syria. They are poor and 
oppressed, but industrious and brave. In their desert home 
they live in comparative comfort, notwithstanding the tyranny 
of the Turks, the exactions of the Bedawin, and what is some- 
times more severely felt than either, the unceasing enmity of 
the whole body of their fellow-Christians. It is unfortunately 
the case that the various Christian sects in Syria hate each 
other with a bitter hatred, and often use their influence with 
Turkish rulers to oppress and spoil their brethren. The 
Jacobites of Sudud had suffered much in this way; and it had 
been my good fortune to secure for them relief from cruel 
wrong. They were now profuse in their expressions of grati- 
tude. In the name of his people the priest gave me a pressing 
invitation to Sudud, and I gladly accepted it. 

Zedad lies eight hours south-east of Emesa, across an open, 
desolate plain. We left the city a little before sunset, on a 
beautiful evening in autumn. The air was fresh and balmy ; 
but after five long months of cloudless sky and burning sun- 
shine, no wonder "the heaven seemed as brass and the earth as 
iron." I found my friend the priest and some ten or twelve of 
his people, mounted on mules and donkeys, waiting for us out- 
side the gate. I was struck with the venerable and even noble 
appearance of the old man ; and I thought he might be regarded 
as no unworthy representative, so far at least as outward aspect 
was concerned, of the Syrian episcopoi in primitive times. His 
eye was bright, his cheek bronzed, and his flowing beard white 
as the snow-drift. He wore a black, high-crowned, circular 
cap ; a close under garment of crimson satin, bound round the 
waist by a girdle; and over all was thrown a long loose robe of 
black serge. He rode a stout mule, whose well-padded saddle 
and housings were ornamented with numerous red and black 
tassels, cowries, and silver charms. 



312 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



A ride of an hour and a half brought us to Meskineh, a little 
hamlet occupied by a colony from Sudud, and forming one of 
the outposts of habitation on the plain of Emesa. Here we 
halted to await the formation of the caravan and the light of the 
moon. The road from Emesa to Sudud is very dangerous 
during the autumn. The Anezeh and Beni-Shemal are then 
encamped around the fountains of Kuryetein and Salemiyeh, 
away to the eastward ; and their horsemen scour the plain up 
to the very gates of the city, stripping stray travellers, plunder- 
ing caravans, and driving off flocks and herds. The priest told 
me that they have spies in Emesa, and mounted scouts along 
the leading roads, who give due notice to the tribe of every 
favourable opportunity for plunder. The poor villagers suffer 
severely. Their convoys of grain are closely watched, and not 
unfrequently the hard-earned gatherings of a whole year are 
carried off in one raid. 

"And does not the government protect you?" I asked. 

"The government!" he exclaimed with surprise; "the 
government does nothing but collect its taxes!" 

How true was the picture which the old prophets drew ol 
Syria's future ! " The spoilers are come upon all high places 
through the wilderness : for the sword of the Lord shall devour 
from the one end of the land even to the other end of the /and: no 
flesh shall have peace. They have sown wheat but shall reap 
thorns ; they have put themselves to pain, but shall not profit ; 
and they shall be ashamed of your revenues, because of the 
fierce anger of the Lord" (Jer. xii. 12, 13). "They shall eat 
their bread with carefulness, and drink their water with astonish- 
ment, that her land may be desolate from all that is therein, 
because of the violence of all them that dwell therein" (Ezek. 
xii. 19). 

When the moon rose the order was given to march. The 
caravan was much larger than I expected. There were about 
sixty Sududiyeh, all armed with guns, besides a dozen or two 



A NIGHT MARCH IN THE DESERT. 



of traders from Emesa and Hamath; and the animals — camels, 
mules, and donkeys — may probably have numbered two hundred. 
The priest, and the sheikh of Sudud who rode a good horse, 
took the lead, and asked me to join them, after giving strict orders 
to all strangers, as they valued their safety, not to leave the main 
body for a single instant, and not to speak above a whisper. 

On we sped. Our pace was somewhat slow, but steady. 
Not a voice was heard, and the only sound the ear could detect 
was the dull muffled tread of men and animals on the dusty 
soil. The pale moon shed her silvery light on the grey plain, 
half revealing, half concealing ; and the long compact body of 
men and animals, stealing noiselessly over the bleak waste, had 
a strange spectral look that almost alarmed one. 

The country was at first perfectly flat; but after travelling 
some hours it became more and more undulating, and broken 
"by wadys and dry torrent beds. Into one of these we de- 
scended, and marched for a mile or more. I saw that the 
sheikh was now all anxiety and watchfulness; and that my 
reverend friend, who for a time had been nodding on his careful 
mule, roused himself and addressed a few words to the chief. 
I concluded that this was a dangerous part of the road, and my 
thoughts were soon rather unpleasantly realized. 

The sheikh after the words of the priest trotted ahead, and 
was soon out of sight. We went on as before ; but, as I thought, 
somewhat slower. The sheikh had not been absent more than 
fifteen minutes when he came back at a canter, and, pushing 
on to the very centre of the caravan, cried in a deep earnest 
whisper, "Hauweluf" (halt). The caravan stopped in a 
moment. So still and statue-like did the whole become, that 
one could have imagined his voice had turned them to stone. 
A moment more and I saw that every gun was unslung, and 
that the leading men gathered round their chief. Galloping up 
to the group, I demanded what was wrong. "Arabs" was the 
reply, and it was enough to explain all. 



314 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



The sheikh, who was well mounted, unslung his rifle, ex- 
amined the priming of his pistols, and told his people to 
remain steady and quiet while he went forward to reconnoitre. 
I joined him. After riding a quarter of a mile or so we came 
to a sharp turn in the valley, where it appeared to open into an 
undulating plateau. Here we stopped, and my companion, 
touching my arm, pointed to a rising ground in the distance on 
the left, and said, " SMf." 

" Those are trees," I said ; but that instant my horse, with 
the true instinct of his race, pricked up his ears, raised his 
head, and gave a low angry snort. 

" They must be Arabs, and mounted," I now added. 

" Your horse tells you that." 

" Can we not get nearer them?" I asked. 

" No. If we advance a yard beyond this rock their sharp 
eyes will detect us. The Arab has the eye of the eagle when 
on a foray." 

I had fortunately my double field glass slung at my side. 
Taking it out and turning it on the party I saw them distinctly, 
and, greatly to the surprise of my companion, told hirn their 
numbers and equipments in a moment. 

" There are seven horsemen armed with spears. They are 
advancing slowly this way in line. 

" Are there only seven 1 Can you make out no more?" were 
the eager questions of my companion. 

"None; not another man," I replied, as I examined them 
closely again with the glass. " But stay — what is yon on the 
crest of that rising ground away further to the right ? More 
Arabs, as I live ! A large body — some on horseback, some 
on dromedaries. I see their spears glittering in the moon- 
light." 

"What's their number?" demanded the sheikh. 
"Forty, at least; and each dromedary carries two. I see 
their outline distinctly against the clear sky." 



ADVENTURE WITH ARABS. 



315 



" It is a ghuzu of the Beni-Shemal," said the sheikh, sadly and 
bitterly. " God help my poor people; we are all lost ! " 

"May we not escape yet?" I replied. "See, the main body 
is going southward, and must cross the valley at least half a mile 
ahead. If your people keep quiet they cannot be seen in the 
valley." 

" True. But these — look at these," the sheikh said, pointing 
to the Arabs we had first seen, and who still continued slowly 
to advance, " will not they discover us?" 

I turned my glass upon them, and then said : " They 
are coming down straight upon us. Come in closer or they 
will see you, for they are evidently keeping a sharp look 
out." 

At the place where we stood a jagged limestone rock, some 
eight or ten feet high, projected from the northern bank. The 
side next to us was deeply excavated, and formed a kind of 
natural cave. Round it the valley turned at a sharp angle. We 
were thus completely hidden from all in front, while about a 
hundred yards behind us was another bluff, and a slight curve 
in the glen, serving in a great measure to conceal the caravan 
even from us. The danger that threatened, and the critical 
nature of our position, made me examine minutely every feature 
of the glen. I now saw that from the main body we had no- 
thing to fear; and should the others pass in front of the rock we 
had every chance to escape their notice also; but should they 
come round it nothing could save us. 

" Go you back to your people," I said to my companion, 
" keep them close and perfectly still. I shall remain here to 
watch the Arabs. If they pass this rock, or in any other way 
discover the caravan, you may rely on me either to be with you 
or give you due warning. Meantime, have your men prepared ; 
and should the worst come you have sixty muskets." 

He was off in an instant. I then dismounted, and drew my 
horse close in under the projecting ledge. Through a rent I 



316 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



had command of the advancing party and the whole plateau. 
The Arabs came straight towards me. Already I could hear" 
their voices. They were splendidly mounted. When about to 
descend into the glen they turned to the left to avoid the steep 
bank and some broken ledges. " We are safe ! " I inwardly ex- 
claimed. The nearest of them was not more than twenty yards 
distant, and just as he reached the bottom his horse suddenly 
started and neighed. My horse was about to reply, when by a 
check of the bridle I silenced him ; and the wise creature seemed 
to know my danger. The whole party halted. " What's here?" 
they cried, and they looked all round. The man next me 
wheeled round and advanced. It was an anxious and a critical 
moment. The lives of many seemed now to hang upon a thread. 
The Arab was on one side of the rock, and I on the other. I 
saw the point of his long tufted spear a few feet above me; but 
I could not see the man, as I dared not raise my head. Should 
he move forward another yard, or should my horse make the 
slightest motion, we were lost. With my foot in the stirrup, 
and my hand on the horse's neck, I stood like a statue, prepared, 
should he pass the rock, to make a bold dash forward, which I 
knew would drive him back to his companions. I can never 
forget that moment of suspense. It was soon over. I heard a 
call from his companions, then the ring of his horse's feet on 
the stones in the dry torrent bed. I put up my head again, and 
saw the whole party ascend the south bank, and in five minutes 
they were out of sight. I mounted and followed cautiously, 
and had the intense satisfaction of seeing them and their friends 
ride off at a quickened pace away across the desert. 

After half an hour's halt the caravan again started, and we 
reached Sudud just as the first dawn of morning appeared in 
the east. So ended my night march. I have described it here 
for a twofold purpose : — to serve as an illustration of modern 
life on the borders of the Syrian desert; and to show how true 
was the Bible picture of the Ishmaelite, "His hand will be against 



ZEDAD AND HAZAR-ENAN. 



3*7 



every man;" and how true the predictions of the disturbed state 
of Palestine, " No flesh shall have peace." 

ZEDAD. 

Sudud is still a large village; though it does not contain a 
single vestige of antiquity except a few fragments of columns 
built up in the mud walls of the modern houses. It is surrounded 
by gardens and cultivated fields, irrigated by a stream from one 
of those strange subterranean aqueducts, which one sees so fre- 
quently on the plain of Damascus. The people are all Chris- 
tians; and though their ecclesiastical language is Syriac, they 
speak and understand Arabic alone. The priests showed me 
some old Syriac manuscripts, one or two of which were on vel- 
lum; but they were poorly written, and of no literary value. 

The name of Zedad has not been once mentioned in history 
since that time when Moses defined so minutely the northern 
border of Palestine. How strange to find the city still here, 
after an interval of more than three thousand years, with its 
name little changed ! 

HAZAR-ENAN. 

" The goings out of it (the border) shall be at Hazar-enan" 
This Hazar-enan, or, as the word signifies, " Village of Foun- 
tains," stood, therefore, at the north-west corner of the promised 
land; and consequently east or south-east of Sudud. Three 
hours south-east of Sudud is Hawarin, a small village with some 
ancient ruins. The name might possibly be a corruption of 
Hazar-enan; but there is no fountain there, as I am told, for I 
did not visit it, and this fact appears fatal to the identity. 

In my way back from Palmyra to Damascus I arrived on the 
evening of the second day at the large village oiKui-yctein, which 
stands in the centre of that long valley described below as run- 
ning westward from the desert city. It is twenty-two hours 
march frcm Palmyra, about the same from Damascus, and six 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND, 



south-east from Sudud. Here are copious fountains, — the only 
ones of any note in the whole of that vast arid region. The 
Hebrew word Hazar-enan signifies, as I have said, " Village of 
Fountains;" and the Arabic word Kuryetein, "two villages." 
The ruins scattered among the lanes and gardens show that 
Kuryetein was once a place of importance ; and the name, in 
conjunction with the old massive church, enables us to identify 
it with the Greek episcopal city of Koradea. 

Ever since my visit I have been convinced that this is the 
long-lost Hazar-enan, mentioned by Moses as the north-eastern 
landmark of Israel (Num. xxxiv. 9) ; and by Ezekiel as lying be- 
tween the borders of Hamath and Damascus (xlvii. 17 ; xlviii. 1). 
If this be so, the northern border line is now pretty fully ascer- 
tained. 

Ezekiel's border is so far identical with that of Moses, but 
from this point it varies ; Ezekiel includes the kingdom of Da- 
mascus; Moses excludes it; and therefore Moses draws his line 
westward from Hazar-enan to Riblah, and then south through 
Ccele-Syria to the Jordan. Shaphtm, the next point after Hazar, 
is unknown; but we must pay a visit to Riblah. 

RIBLAH. 

My first visit to Riblah I have elsewhere described ; * my 
second dates some three years later. 

Leaving Sudud with the dawn, accompanied only by my two 
servants and a guide, I crossed the dreary plain to Hasya (three 
hours). It was rather a hazardous ride, especially after the ex- 
perience of the " night march." We arrived in safety, however, 
greatly to the surprise of my good friend the Aga of Hasya, 
who assured me the Bedawin were keeping the whole country 
in commotion, and had made the main road to Damascus im- 
passable. 

After two hours rest, and a substantial breakfast in the Aga's 

* " Five Years in Damascus,'' vol. ii. 



R UINS OF RIBLAH. 3 1 9 

hospitable castle, I mounted again and set out for Riblah. My 
route still lay in the plain; but the northern slopes of Anti- 
Lebanon now rose up, bare and stern, close upon my left. In 
an hour I passed through a gap which intersects the ridge near 
its termination; and then another hour's gallop brought me to 
Riblah. 

Riblah retains its ancient name, though scarce a fragment of 
the ancient city is visible. Its houses are poor and mean, but the 
site is splendid. The Orontes flows past, a deep lazy river; and a 
plain of unrivalled fertility stretches away for miles on each side. 
Has my reader ever remarked the accuracy of Biblical topo- 
graphy even in the minutest details] Moses speaks of " Riblah 
on the east side of Am ;" or of " the fountain," as the Hebrew 
signifies. Ten miles west of Riblah is the great fountain of the 
Orontes, which I also visited, and which is to this day called by 
all the people in the neighbourhood el-Ain, " the fountain." 

After the battle of Megiddo, fatal to good King Josiah, 
Pharaoh-necho, continuing his march toward Assyria, encamped 
at Riblah, and here settled the succession in the Jewish mon- 
archy by putting Eliakim on the throne (2 Kings xxiii. 29-34). 
Here also, on this noble plain, Nebuchadnezzar appears to have 
remained in camp while his general besieged and took Jerusa- 
lem. To this place the Jewish monarch was brought a captive, 
and his eyes put out immediately after witnessing the cruel 
murder of his sons (2 Kings xxv. 1-7). 

On the blood-stained site I sat, and read from my Bible the 
few incidents of Riblah's history; and then looking upon the 
wretched village, and out over the rich but desolate plain, I 
could not but see that a curse was there, and I could not but 
feel that it was deserved. 

Other thoughts, sad and solemn, were also forced upon my 
mind by the scenes around me. The whole Land was God's 
gift to his people. He gave it in covenant to Abraham; he 
gave it in promise to Moses; he divided it in part to the tribes 



3 20 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



under Joshua; and he gave it in all its length and breadth, — 
" from the river of Egypt even unto the great river, the river 
Euphrates," — to the nation under David. But the people forgot 
the Lord's goodness, and they rebelled against his authority, so 
that by their own deliberate acts they brought upon themselves 
and upon their land the threatened curse. Now upon the nor- 
thern border, as before upon the eastern, the southern, and the 
western, with my own eyes I witnessed the literal fulfilment of the 
prophetic curse, — " I will bring the land into desolation : and 
your enemies which dwell therein shall be astonished at it. And 
I will scatter you among the heathen, and will draw out a sword 
after you : and your land shall be desolate, and your cities waste. 
Then shall the land enjoy her sabbaths, as long as it lieth deso- 
late, and ye be in your enemies' land" (Lev. xxvi. 32-34). 



III. 

" And Solomon built Tadmor in the wilderness." — 2 Chron. viii. 4. 

" Yet I could weep — for thou art lying, alas ! 
Low in the dust ; and we admire thee now 
As we admire the beautiful in death." 




!N the year 1691 a company of English merchants, 
resident in Aleppo, heard strange reports of the ruins 
I of a magnificent city away in the centre of the Syrian 



desert. The reports reached them from various sources ; — from 
Baghdad traders, who had traversed the desert with their 
caravans; from native pedlars and armourers who followed the 
footsteps of the wandering Bedawin; from Arab Sheikhs who 
ruled the tribes and led the raids of the Anezeh and Beni 
Shemal One and all told the story of the great city. Such 
palaces and temples, such ranges of columns and heaps of ruins, 
such tombs and castles, such multitudes of inscriptions, and 
statues, and monuments the world had never seen as were 
there, grouped around the fountains, and scattered over the 
desolate plain of Tadmor. The glowing descriptions were like 
a romance from Antar or a tale from the Arabian Nights. — 

" The ground, 
League beyond league, like one great cemetery 
Is covered o'er with mouldering monuments : 
And, let the living wander where they will, 
They cannot leave the footsteps of the dead." 



Making every allowance for Oriental exaggeration, and the 



322 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



magic influence of Eastern fancy, the merchants thought there 
must be some foundation of fact — enough, at least, to repay the 
toil and expense of an expedition. It was a serious matter in 
those days to penetrate the desert; it is a work of some difficulty 
and danger even yet. But an expedition was organized; guides 
and guards were hired ; the pathless waste was traversed ; and 
the adventurous travellers were richly repaid by the discovery 
of the long lost ruins of " Tadmor in the wilderness" the city 
founded by Solomon and ruled by Zenobia. In a few months 
all Europe resounded with the story of their adventures, and 
the glowing descriptions of the desert city. 

For more than half a century the interesting narrative of the 
Aleppo merchants was read with a kind of semi-scepticism. 
The leading facts were not questioned. None went so far as 
to doubt that the classic Palymra had been discovered; but it 
was generally thought that the descriptions of the ruins were 
highly coloured, and that when other travellers would explore 
and describe them, uninfluenced by the excitement of a great 
discovery, by those feelings of romance which sometimes en- 
circle as a halo the minds of antiquarian and geographical 
pioneers, the real, matter-of-fact, character and state of the 
ancient city would become known. 

In the year 1751 another celebrated expedition reached 
Palmyra. It was well organized, fully equipped, and the 
objects it aimed at were successfully accomplished. The expe- 
dition was planned and carried out by men who, from their 
great learning, classic tastes, and previous travels in Italy, 
Greece, and Asia Minor, were in every respect qualified satis- 
factorily to explore, delineate, and describe the city. They 
were supplied with the best books and instruments, and accom- 
panied by an accomplished architect and draughtsman. They 
spent two weeks surveying, measuring, sketching, drawing plans, 
and copying inscriptions; and they returned across the desert 
with full portfolios, and a caravan of camels laden with marbles 



WONDERFUL RUINS. 



3 2 3 



and works of art. The splendid folio which they afterwards 
published* will give such as have not visited the city the best 
idea of its wonderful remains. This great work showed 
European scholars that the narrative of the Aleppo merchants, 
instead of being exaggerated, fell short of the truth. In describ- 
ing the ruins of Palmyra it would be almost impossible to 
exaggerate. There is nothing like them in the world. The 
sight of them from the adjoining hill top is like a dream of fairy 
land. True, there are in Athens and other cities of Greece 
single buildings chaster in style, and more perfect in execution, 
than any of which Palmyra can boast ; there are also in Egypt 
and Syria structures of more colossal magnitude; but in no 
other spot in the world can we find such vast numbers of 
temples, palaces, colonnades, tombs, and monuments, grouped 
together so as to be seen at a single glance. Here is the testi- 
mony of Wood and Dawkins, the leaders of the expedition of 
which I have just spoken, given after traversing the whole 
circuit of lands classic and sacred: — "We had scarce passed 
these venerable monuments, when the hills opening discovered 
to us, all at once, the greatest quantity of ruins we had ever seen, 
all of white marble, and beyond them towards the Euphrates a 
flat waste, as far as the eye could reach, without any object 
which showed either life or motion. It is scarce possible to 
imagine anything more striking than this view; so great a 
number of Corinthian pillars, mixed with so little wall or solid 
building, afforded a most romantic variety of prospect." 

It is greatly to be desired that some of our accomplished and 
enterprising photographers would pay a visit to Palmyra. The 
sketches and drawings of Wood and Dawkins are beautiful and 
faithful; but however skilful the pencil of the artist, however 
accurate the eye and the scale of the architect, in minuteness 
of detail and perfection of representation, neither the one nor 
the other can rival the sun picture. Then the monuments of 

* The Ruins of Palymra, otherwise Tedtnar in the Desert. London, 1753. 



324 NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 

the desert city are so numerous, their grouping so peculiar, and 
now, alas ! so confused, that it is impossible to give a faithful 
delineation in sketch or drawing. And, besides, the artist can 
never command sufficient time and quiet for his work. He is 
dogged everywhere, as I can tell from sad experience, by prying 
and often persecuting Bedawin, watching every opportunity 
privately to pilfer, or openly to plunder. In addition to the 
great monuments, and the exquisitely sculptured ornaments on 
portals, cornice, and pediment, there are those unique Palmyrene 
and bilingual inscriptions, which the photographer alone can 
reproduce. A skilful manipulator, with a good staff of assist- 
ants, would photograph all Palmyra in a single week, and would 
bring back with him to the West a series of pictures almost un- 
rivalled for beauty, strangeness, and historic and antiquarian 
interest. 

THE ISHMAELITE. 

My journey to Palmyra was somewhat adventurous. My 
whole party consisted of an English friend, an Arak sheikh, and 
a camel driver, — four men in all, mounted on three dromedaries. 
To attempt to go from Damascus to Tadmor, through a hun- 
dred miles of desert infested by prowling bandits, and overrun 
by hostile Bedawin, with such an escort, may probably appear 
a little rash. And looking back upon it now from the calm 
seclusion of my library, where the excitement and romance of 
Eastern travel find no place, I am inclined to think it was rash. 
It had these good effects, however ; it led me away from the 
ordinary and direct route ; it brought me into close contact 
with a number of friendly tribes ; it gave me large experience 
of genuine Arab hospitality; and it afforded me, besides, some 
very palpable, if not very pleasant, illustrations of the truth of 
the prophecy pronounced of old on Ishmael and his posterity: 
— " He will be a wild man ; his hand will be against every man, 
and every man's hand against him" (Gen. xvi. 12). 



THE DESERT. 



3 2 5 



It was the fifth morning of our journey, and the sheikh told 
us that by noon we should see the ruins of Tadmor. 

For three whole days we had already marched through the 
desert. Not, however, the desert of boyhood's fancy, — a plain 
of drifting sand, blazing in the fierce sunbeams, and bounded 
by the circle of the horizon. This desert had more pleas- 
ing features. There were long ranges, and clustering groups of 
mountains, presenting an agreeable variety of form and outline, 
and occasionally also of colour, though the general hue was 
that light grey, or yellowish white, so characteristic of the lime- 
stone strata of Syria. Here and there a bluff of dark red sand- 
stone, or a dyke of black trap, or a graceful cone of snow-white 
chalk, broke the uniformity. At one or two points I saw a 
singular combination of colours in the same peak, — white, red, 
pink, and black, — reminding one of the gorgeous hues of the 
cliffs of Edom. Between the mountains were long winding 
vales, and deep rugged glens, now in early spring all spangled 
with the bright red anemone, and poppy, and gay convolvulus, 
intermixed with a few, a very few, tufts of green grass and green 
weeds. In all other respects it was a desert. Not a single 
house or sign of settled habitation was there; not a solitary 
patch of cultivated ground was anywhere to be seen ; not a 
drop of water in stream, fountain, well, or tank did we ever 
meet with; not a tree or green shrub appeared on the sides of 
those bare, desolate hills. This is just such a region as the Old 
Testament writers would have called Midbar (the name usually 
given to the peninsula of Sinai, and the " wilderness of wander- 
ing "), a region devoid of cultivation and settled inhabitant, but 
affording good pasture for flocks and herds. 

The desert was now all alive with the great tribe of the 
Anezeh who claim its pastures as their own. Every few miles 
we came upon a little circlet of black tents pitched in some 
retired vale, or near some secret well ; and when we saw the 
droves of camels covering the country for miles and miles, and 



3*6 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



the flocks of sheep and goats, we learned how the flocks and 
herds of Israel were fed during their forty years wandering in 
the midbar of Sinai. 

Many strange and interesting traits of Arab life and law came 
under our notice. Whenever our path led us near an encamp- 
ment, as was frequently the case, we always found some active 
sheikh, or venerable patriarch, sitting " in his tent door," and 
as soon as we were within hail, we heard the earnest words of 
welcome and invitation, which the Old Testament Scriptures 
had rendered long ago familiar to us : " Stay, my lord, stay. 
Pass not on till thou hast eaten bread, and rested under thy 
servant's tent Alight and remain until thy servant kills a kid 
and prepares a feast." Again and again were these invitations 
given and urged in such a way that we found it impossible to 
resist them. In fact, our progress was seriously delayed by this 
truly patriarchal hospitality; and more than once or twice we 
were witnesses of the almost inconceivable rapidity with which the 
kid was killed, prepared, and served up with " butter and milk," 
after the manner of Abraham's feast at Mamre, (Gen. xviii.) 

Another trait of desert life we also noticed. On several 
occasions we suddenly and unexpectedly found ourselves close 
to a solitary tent or small encampment, whose occupants were 
unknown to our leader, and suspected to be enemies of his 
tribe. We were then told to muffle up our faces, drive our 
dromedaries quickly up to the tent door and dismount. We 
were thus safe. Arab law made the master of the tent respon- 
sible for our lives and our entertainment. On such occasions 
not a word was spoken till we were seated within the tent, and 
not a question was ever asked during the whole time we re- 
mained as to who we were, whence we had come, or whither 
we were going. A similar trait of the Scottish Highlanders is 
beautifully illustrated by Scott in the " Lady of the Lake," — 

" Meet welcome to her guest she made, 
And every courteous rite was paid, 



MARCH THROUGH THE DESERT. 



327 



That hospitality could claim, 
Though all unasked his birth and name. 
Such then the reverence to a guest, 
That fellest foe might join the feast, 
And from his deadliest foeman's door 
Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er." 

It was doubtless such hospitality that Job boasted of when 
he said : " The stranger did not lodge in the street; I opened my 
doors to the traveller" (xxxi. 32). 

It was, as I said, the fifth morning of our journey. We were 
up before the dawn, and the first grey streak of the new day 
was just visible along the eastern horizon as we mounted our 
dromedaries and rode off. The camp where we had spent the 
night lay in a broad valley, shut in on the north and south by 
steep ranges of naked limestone, but opening on the east, at 
the distance of a few miles, to a boundless plain. Our leader 
went straight to the northern ridge. Up it we scrambled by a 
track so steep, so rugged, and in places so narrow, that I often 
feared the dromedaries would topple over and dash us to pieces 
on the rocks far below. From the summit we had a command- 
ing view. In front a broad plain, bare and grey, bounded on 
the north by a line of rocky mountains almost perfectly white. 
Behind us another plain, green with the grass of spring, and 
thickly studded with the black tents of Bedawin. 

We now turned eastward and descended diagonally into a 
plain so barren and desolate that we had never seen anything 
like it before. Its whole surface was covered with small frag- 
ments of white limestone, mixed with pieces of dark coloured 
flint. The sky was still, as it had been for three days, without 
a cloud; and the sunbeams fell on that parched desert like 
streams of liquid fire. The skin of our faces and lips shrivelled 
and cracked with the heat, our eyes could with difficulty endure 
the intense glare, and like Jacob " the drought consumed us," 
for the water was exhausted in our bottles. On we pressed with 
sweeping step and ship-like motion, in perfect silence, our very 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



dromedaries appearing to feel that this was a region to be tra- 
versed with all possible despatch. 

Suddenly, on emerging from a little glen, a scene of rare 
beauty burst upon our view, taking us completely by surprise. 
A lake appeared in front, its margin fringed with shrubs and 
tall reeds ; here and there an islet varied its surface, covered 
with dwarf palms, whose graceful feathery branches bent down 
to the glassy waters. Away along its further shore sped a soli- 
tary Arab on a dromedary, — now marching double, the man 
and the shadow; now raising the glittering spray as the animal's 
feet dipped lightly in the margin of the lake. It was a fairy 
scene, looking all the more enchanting from contrast with the 
utter barrenness of the surrounding plain. 

Again we dipped into a glen that crossed our path. We 
pressed up the further side; we looked all round. The lake 
was gone. It was the mirage. The solitary Arab on his fleet 
dromedary swept past us; and so great was our surprise that 
we were prepared to see him vanish too. 

Swiftly and cautiously the sheikh led us along the base of the 
mountains which rose up far overhead, here in long, gravelly 
slopes, and there in frowning precipices capped by great masses 
of projecting rock, which seemed as if an infant's touch would 
hurl them down upon our heads. We surmounted a rocky spur 
and the sheikh paused. " Look," he exclaimed, pointing to a 
narrow opening in the low line of hills which crossed the plain 
in front. We saw a castle crowning a conical peak; we saw 
tall slender towers on the slopes, and in the bottom of the pass 
below. " That is Tadmor. Yallah/" 

But the next moment two wild Arab horsemen reined up their 
panting steeds within pistol shot. They spoke not a word. 
They gave not a sign. One of them, after taking a rapid glance 
at our party, wheeled his horse and went off at full gallop across 
the plain. The other remained, motionless as a statue, leaning 
upon his long lance. Our chief was silent. He seemed almost 



TAKEN PRISONER. 



3 2 9 



paralyzed. His dromedary wandered about at will cropping 
the dry weeds. Something was wrong, we knew not well what. 
We were not left long in suspense. A cloud of dust appeared 
approaching us across the plain. It opened, and we saw a 
troop of some forty or fifty horsemen charging us at full speed. 
The next moment a score of glittering lances were brandished 
fiercely round our heads. Resistance would have been worse 
than useless. We were prisoners. 

We were led off across the plain for some two miles, and we 
then met the whole tribe of our captors on the march. It was 
a strangely interesting sight. Far as the eye could see the plain 
was covered with countless droves of camels, and flocks of 
sheep, and horsemen, and dromedaries laden with tents, and all 
manner of furniture and utensils. The sheikh, who happened 
to have my animal by the halter, stuck his spear in the ground 
and dismounted. It was the signal for encamping. In a mo- 
ment the tents were on the ground, and hundreds of women 
wielding the heavy mallets with which they drive in the large 
iron tent-pins. This is always their work, and they do it with 
singular dexterity. Looking at them, I could not but remem- 
ber Jael. " She put her hand to the tent-pin (the Hebrew word 
translated 'nail' is the very same as the Arabic name for 'tent- 
pin'); her right hand to the hammer of the workers; she ham- 
mered Sisera, and smote his head; she beat and pierced his 
temples" (Judges v. 26). 

We had other illustrations of the same tragic story when the 
tents were pitched. We were thirsty, and they brought us milk 
fresh from the camel. Then they set before us a huge metal 
dish of Icbcn ("sour curds"). "Blessed above women shall 
Jael the wife of Heber the Kenite be; blessed shall she be 
above women in the tent. Water he asked, milk she gave him. 
In a lordly dish she set curds before him" (ver. 25). 



33° 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



" TADMOR IN THE WILDERNESS." 

At first our prospects in our desert prison looked gloomy 
enough. A large ransom was demanded. Uncomfortable 
threats were thrown out when we curtly refused it. Gradually, 
however, our hopes brightened, and by noon the next day all 
was so satisfactorily arranged that our captors escorted us in 
grand style to Tadmor. 

The first view of that classic city was strange and impressive 
far beyond all our anticipations. We reached the pass through 
the low eastern ridge ; we began the ascent of a rising ground 
that forms the crown of the pass. So far we saw nothing ex- 
cept the old castle overhead on the left, and a few tower-like 
tombs on the hill sides. The crest was gained at last, and then 
the whole site of the city burst upon our view. 

Immediately before us lay a white plain, some three or four 
miles in circuit, entirely covered, and in many places heaped up 
with ruins. Through the centre ran a Corinthian colonnade. 
Away beyond it, on the east, rose the great temple of the sun, 
itself almost a city for magnitude. To the right and left, in 
endless variety, were scattered groups of columns, and single 
monumental pillars; while everywhere the ground was thickly 
strewn with broken shafts, and great shapeless piles of ruins, all 
white and glistening in the bright sunlight. Such a sight no 
eye ever saw elsewhere : — 

" Temples, palaces, a wondrous dream, 

That passes not away ; for many a league, 
Illurnine yet the desert." 

All too was desolate. Like bleached bones on a long neglected 
battle-field those ruins lie, lonely and forsaken. 

On the southern side of the city a tiny stream flows from a 
chasm in the mountain side, and wands eastward fringed with 
grass and tender foliage, until it ends in a circlet of gardens, 
the brilliant verdure of whose orchards and palm-groves con- 



RUINS OF PALMYRA. 



331 



trasts beautifully with the intense whiteness of the ruins and of 
the boundless plain beyond. Palmyra was a double oasis in 
the desert — an oasis of nature and of art; of physical richness, 
and of architectural splendour. 

THE TEMPLE OF THE SUN. 

This is the finest building in Palmyra, and for extent and 
beauty it is scarcely surpassed in the world. A court, two 
hundred and fifty yards square, was encompassed by a wall 
seventy feet high, richly ornamented externally with pilasters, 
frieze, and cornice. The entrance was through a portico of ten 
columns. Round the whole interior ran a double colonnade, 
forming "porches" or cloisters like those of the temple at 
Jerusalem. Each pillar in the cloisters had a pedestal, or 
bracket, for a statue. Near, but not in the centre of the court, 
is the naos, or temple itself — in this respect also resembling 
Herod's temple. It was encircled by a single row of fluted 
Corinthian columns, with bronze capitals, supporting an un- 
broken entablature richly ornamented with festoons of fruit and 
flowers, held up at intervals by winged genii. The effect of 
the whole — the white pillars, the bronze capitals, the sculptured 
cornice, the noble cloisters, the long ranges of statues — must 
have been grand. We have scarcely any building now that will 
bear comparison with it. 

The encircling wall is still tolerably perfect, and the naos is 
nearly complete. Above a hundred of the pillars in the 
cloisters remain standing; but the greater part of the interior is 
encumbered with the miserable hovels of the modern inhabit- 
ants, who have all clustered together here for safety. 

THE GRAND COLONNADE. 

Next to the Temple of the Sun the Colonnade is the most 
remarkable object in Palmyra. Commencing on the east at a 
splendid triumphal arch, it runs through the centre of the city, 



33 2 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



and is nearly a mile in length. There were originally four rows 
of columns, about sixty feet high, forming a central and two 
side avenues. When complete, it must have contained above 
ffteen hundred columns, more than one hundred and fifty of 
which still stand. Each column has on its inner side about 
eight feet above its base, a bracket for a statue. One remark- 
able feature of the Colonnade is, that it is bent slightly in the 
middle ; and on looking along it one sees how much this adds 
to its effect. What a noble promenade for the old Palmyrenes ! 
sheltered from the sun's fierce rays; open to every gentle 
breeze; statues of their country's nobles and patriots, poets and 
philosophers, ranged in long lines beside them; and the back- 
ground filled in with the gorgeous facades of temples and 
palaces, tombs and monuments ! Broken and shattered though 
it is, with hundreds of its polished shafts prostrate, and long 
ranges of its sculptured cornice lying amidst dust and rubbish, 
the Colonnade of Tadmor forms one of the most imposing pic- 
tures in the world. I was never tired looking at it. I saw 
some new and striking feature from every point of view. 

It is a curious fact that every great city of the East had a 
via recta — "a Straight street," or "High street" — somewhat 
similar in plan and ornament to that at Palmyra. Traces of 
the streets and colonnades may still be seen at Gerasa, Samaria, 
Bozrah, and Apamea; and after a little investigation I dis- 
covered that " the street called Straight" in Damascus (Acts 
ix. n) was of the same kind. 

THE TOMBS. 

The Palmyrenes, like all other Eastern nations, gave special 
honour to the memory of the dead. Among the most beauti- 
ful and remarkable of the monuments are sepulchres. Some of 
those within the city were of great size, and appear to have been 
intended for temples as well as tombs. Rock sepulchres, so 
common throughout Syria, Edom, and Egypt, are here un- 



TOMBS OF PALMYRA. 



333 



known; and their place is taken by tower-shaped structures 
which seem to be peculiar to Palmyra. They are very numer- 
ous. One sees them in the plain all round the city, on both 
sides of the pass which leads to it from the west, and a few are 
perched on the tops of neighbouring peaks. The plan of all is 
the same, though they vary greatly in the style and richness of 
the internal ornaments. They are square, measuring from 
twenty to thirty feet on each side, generally four stories in 
height. Each story consists of a single chamber constructed 
with tiers of deep loculi, or recesses, on each side, reaching 
from floor to ceiling. It was usual to place busts of the dead, 
with names and dates, either at the openings of the loculi, or on 
the walls or ceilings. The decorations of some of these man- 
sions of the dead are exceedingly rich and chaste. The tiers of 
recesses are separated by slender pillars of marble, and the 
walls and ceilings pannelled and ornamented with festoons of 
fruit and flowers, and finely executed busts. Inscriptions are 
numerous, and almost all in the Palmyrene character. The 
effect of the decorations is greatly heightened by chaste colour- 
ing. The ground is generally a delicate blue, which throws out 
in bolder relief the pure white masses of sculpture. The in- 
scriptions on these tombs show that they were almost all erected 
during the first three centuries of our era. 

In addition to the tower-tombs there are in the plain to the 
north and south of the city immense numbers of subterranean 
sepulchres. They are not hewn in the rock, but appear to have 
been built in natural or artificial cavities, and then covered over 
with soil. Those which have been opened were found to con- 
tain loculi, busts, statues, and inscriptions like the other 
sepulchres. Numbers of them still remain unexplored, and 
may one day afford rich treasures to the antiquary. The mode 
of sepulture appears to have been always as follows : — The body 
was embalmed, wrapped tightly up in linen, and placed in a re- 
cess, the door of which was then closed and hermetically sealed. 

do) 2 2 



334 A r 0£ THERN B ORDER LAND. 

The walls of Palmyra are now in ruins. In some places it is 
with difficulty one can even trace their foundations. Not a 
building within the city remains standing. A strong castle, 
situated on the summit of a steep conical peak, a short distance 
from the city, is also in ruins. On a calm bright evening dur- 
ing my stay, I clambered up the hill, scaled the shattered battle- 
ments, and took my seat on the top of its highest tower. I 
can never forget that view. It is photographed on my memory 
in all its vast extent, in all its wild grandeur, in all its strange 
and terrible desolation. Westward my eye roamed far away, 
through the long vista of a bare white valley, to where the sun's 
last rays gilt the snow-capped summits of Lebanon. On the 
north and south were mountain ranges which, though naked and 
barren, now exhibited a richness and delicacy of colouring never 
seen in the west. It was not that of green turf, nor of brown 
heath, nor of mottled and variegated foliage, nor of transparent 
blue tinted by the air of heaven. It was different from all 
these. The highest peaks and crags were tipped as with bur- 
nished gold. Beneath was a clear silvery gray, which was 
shaded gradually into a deep rich purple in the glens and 
valleys. These soft and strange tints gave the mountains a 
dreamy, ethereal look, such as one sees on some of the won- 
drous pictures of Turner On the east a glowing horizon 

swept round a semicircle of unbroken, snow-white plain. At 
my feet, in the centre of all, lay the ruins of the desert city, 
magnificent even in their utter desolation. 

HISTORY. 

Solomon " built Tadmor in the wilderness" (i Kings ix. 18 ; 
2 Chron. viii. 4). The question has been frequently asked, 
Why did Solomon build a city in the midst of the desert, so far 
distant from his own kingdom] The answer is easy to any one 
who knows the history of the period and the geography of Bible 
lands. Solomon was a commercial monarch. One of his great 



ORIGIN AND HISTORY OF PALMYRA. 



335 



aims was to make Palestine the centre of commercial enterprise. 
To secure a safe and easy route for the caravans that imported 
the treasures of India, Persia, and Mesopotamia, was of the 
first importance. Tadmor lies half way between the Euphrates 
and the borders of Syria. It contains the only copious fountain 
in that arid desert. Some halting-place was necessary. Water 
was absolutely necessary. Consequently, Palmyra was founded 
as a caravan station. 

For a thousand years we hear no more of it. Then Pliny de- 
scribes it as a large and powerful independent city. In the 
second century of our era it fell under the dominion of Rome, 
and to that age may be attributed most of its splendid monu- 
ments. When the Emperor Valerian was conquered and cap- 
tured by the Persians, his unworthy son left him in the hands 
of the conquerors; but Odeinathus, a citizen of Palmyra, 
marched against them, defeated them, and took the whole pro- 
vince of Mesopotamia. The services thus rendered to Rome 
were considered so great that Odeinathus was associated in the 
empire with Gallienus. This brave man was poisoned at Emesa; 
but he bequeathed his power to a worthy successor — Zenobia, 
his widow. The names of Palmyra and Zenobia can never be 
dissociated. Unfortunately, ambition prompted her to usurp the 
high sounding title, " Queen of the East." But Rome could 
brook no rival. Her army was defeated, her desert city laid in 
ashes, and she herself led in fetters to grace the victor's triumph. 
Poor Zenobia ! she deserved a better fate. If common human- 
ity could not prevent Roman citizens from thus exulting over 
a fallen foe, the memory of her husband's services might have 
saved her from the indignity of appearing before a mob in chains. 

The period of Palmyra's glory was now past, and we have 
scarcely a notice in history of its decline and fall. At the pre- 
sent moment about fifty wretched hovels, built within the court 
of the Temple of the Sun, form the only representatives of the 
great city of Zenobia, and of " Tadmor in the wilderness/' 



IV. 



'■ This region, surely, is not of the earth, — 
Was it not dropped from heaven?" 

AXLASCUS is the oldest city in the world \ and it is the 
only city which can claim the title "perennial." Its 
origin is lost in the mists of antiquity; and during the 
whole historic age it has been a great city. Josephus says it 
was founded by Uz the son of Aram and grandson of Shem. 
This is probably true ; for it was long the capital of the western 
division of that country which Aram colonized, and to which 
he gave his name. It is unfortunate that this fact does not 
appear in the English version of the Bible, because the Hebrew 
name Aram is there rendered " Syria." 

But by whomsoever founded, one thing is certain regarding 
Damascus. When Abraham crossed the desert from Haran 
three thousand eight hundred years ago, the city was already 
standing on the banks of the Abana; and from that day till this 
it has held a first place among the capitals of Western Asia. It 
has seen many changes. It has passed through many hands. 
It has been ruled by many masters. Syrians, Persians, Greeks, 
Romans, Arabs, and Turks, have in turn governed or oppressed 
it ; but it has lived and flourished under them all. Of the 
horrors of war it has had its full share. Not less than twelve 
times it had been pillaged and burned; yet it has always arisen 
with new beauty from its ashes. 




HISTORY OF DAMASCUS. 



337 



THE KINGDOM OF DAMASCUS. 

Damascus was the head of a kingdom which exercised con- 
siderable influence on the destinies of the Jews, and occupied 
a prominent place in Old Testament history. The kingdom 
embraced the chain of Anti-Lebanon, and extended on the 
north to Hamath, and on the south to Bashan. Though it lay 
within the " Land of Promise," it is not mentioned in the early 
history of the Jews. True, Abraham's steward was a Dama- 
scene; and if we can depend upon a very ancient local tradition, 
the great patriarch himself resided for a time in the city. When 
the Israelites entered Palestine, Hermon was their northern 
border. Neither their wishes nor their abilities stretched beyond 
that noble mountain. They found ample room in the hills and 
valleys of the south, and ample occupation in expelling the 
warlike Canaanites who dwelt there. 

It was when David, firmly established on his throne, extended 
his conquests to the Euphrates, endeavouring to make the 
" Land of Possession" coterminous with the " Land of Promise" 
(compare 2 Sam. viii. 3-9; Gen. xv. 18-21), — it was then 
Damascus and Israel became rivals. For three centuries and 
more that rivalry continued, often entailing sad calamities on 
both. But this melancholy history is chequered with some 
romantic episodes which make the Bible reader feel a kind of 
home interest in the old city. 

BIBLE STORIES. 

First we have the grand expedition of Benhadad, when with two- 
and-thirty vassal monarchs he invaded Israel, and sat down be- 
fore Samaria. His insulting demand is well known (1 Kings xx. 
5, 6) ; and his awful threat when it was refused almost makes 
one shudder, — " The gods do so to me, and more also, if the 
dust of Samaria shall suffice for handfuls for all the people that 
follow me" (ver. to). It was an idle boast; for while the 



338 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



haughty Damascene "was drinking himself drunk in the 
pavilions, he and the kings," a handful of Jewish warriors 
surprised the camp and put the whole host to flight (ver. 
20). 

It is a singular fact, showing the permanence of names in 
the East, that one of the principal families in Damascus, at 
the present moment, is called Beit Haddad, " The house of 
Hadad." 

Next we have the story of Naaman. Naaman was commander- 
in-chief of the armies of Damascus, he was one of the greatest 
generals, and greatest men of his age; but "he was a leper." 
In some warlike expedition he had captured a little Jewish 
maid, who became a slave in his harim. Captivity cannot ex- 
tinguish feelings of compassion in woman's heart. Seeing her 
master's sufferings the maid one day exclaimed, " Would God 
my lord were with the prophet that is in Samaria ! for he would 
recover him of his leprosy." To Samaria Naaman went. 
Elisha did not condescend to see him; but sent him word to go 
and wash in the Jordan. The proud Damascene was indignant : 
" Behold, I thought, He will surely come out to me, and stand, 
and call on the name of the Lord his God, and strike his hand 
over the place, and recover the leper. Are not Abana and 
Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel ? 
may I not wash in them and be clean? So he turned and went 
away in a rage." The whole scene was thoroughly Oriental. 
The servants now interfere. Better counsels prevail; and 
Naaman washed and was cleansed (2 Kings v.) 

The memory of Naaman clings to Damascus yet. Outside 
the walls, on the banks of the Abana, is a leper hospital, which, 
tradition says, occupies the site of Naaman's house. I have 
often visited it, and when looking on its miserable inmates, all 
disfigured and mutilated by their loathsome disease, I could not 
wonder that the heart of the little Jewish captive was moved by 
her master's sufferings. 



BIBLE STORIES. 



339 



Then follows the miraculous deliverance of Israel from the 
king of Damascus by Elisha. Having learned that Elisha was 
the cause of all his failures, the king resolved to seize him. 
Accordingly, on a certain night, he surrounded the village of 
Dothan, in which the prophet dwelt, with horsemen and 
chariots. In the morning Elisha's servant came trembling and 
crying, "Alas, my master! how shall we do?" "Fear not," 
said the man of God; " they that be with us are more than they 
that be with them." Then he prayed, " Lord, open his eyes." 
"And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man; and he 
saw; and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of 
fire round about Elisha" (2 Kings vi. 13-17). The result is 
well known. We can imagine the surprise and terror of the 
soldiers of Damascus when they found themselves alone and 
helpless in the stronghold of their enemy. 

What a glorious type of saving power is here ! As it was 
with Elisha, so it ever is with God's suffering children. The 
hosts of heaven encompass them. Were their eyes only opened 
by Divine agency, they might see, as Elisha saw, the flaming 
chariots and magnificent array of God's armies marshalled 
round them. The prophet's vision illustrates the apostle's 
words regarding the angels — "Are they not all ministering 
spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of 
salvation" (Heb. i. 14). 

The memorable interview between Elisha and Hazael follows 
next. Elijah had been commissioned to anoint Hazael; but 
we have no record of the act. His successor, Elisha, was now 
upon a visit to the city. Benhadad, the king, Was sick, and 
sent Hazael to ask the prophet whether he would recover. 
Elisha read the thoughts that lurked in the traitor's heart, and 
drew such a picture of his future career that Hazael cried in 
indignation and horror, " Is thy servant a dog, that he should 
do this thing'?" Yet the first act in that long and bloody drama 
he perpetrated that very night. Returning to the city, Hazael 



34Q 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



murdered his master, and mounted the throne. Thus terminated 
the royal line of Benhadad. 

The Jews of Damascus have a synagogue over the spot where, 
according to tradition, Elijah once lived, and where Elisha 
and Hazael met. It is two miles from the city, in a village 
called Jobar. It is worthy of note that the village is inhabited 
by Mohammedans, and that the Jews have not, and, so far as 
is known, never had house or land there except the synagogue. 
There must be some truth in the tradition, otherwise the Jews 
could scarcely have acquired an interest in a remote spot in a 
country which their forefathers never possessed. I have often 
ridden out to Jobar. It is a sweet, quiet ride. The winding 
lanes are shaded by the spreading boughs of magnificent walnuts, 
and lined with blooming orchards. — 

" Here the vines 
Wed each her elm, and o'er the golden grain 
Hang their luxuriant clusters, chequering 
The sunshine." 

Here and there the deep, swift Abana shoots out from a thicket 
of weeping willows, and dashes in snowy sheets of foam over an 
old wier. Canals cross and recross the path, fringed with tall 
reeds and long sedgy grass, and spanned by rustic bridges that 
rock and creak beneath the horses' feet. Jobar is a favourite 
resort of wealthy Jews, male and female. It is their park and 
their cafe. There they spend their long summer afternoons, 
often the entire night, under bowers of vine and jasmine. Not 
unfrequently the groves resound with mirth, and revelry, and 
song. Strange mode this in which to celebrate the memory and 
honour the shrines of Israel's great prophets ! 

The enmity of Damascus to the kingdom of Judah brought 
about its own destruction. The Jews, unable to contend with 
so powerful a foe, bought the alliance of Assyria. Damascus 
was attacked and captured, its people were carried away to the 
banks of the Kir, and an Assyrian colony placed in their 



STORY OF PAUL'S CONVERSION. 



341 



room. Damascus thus lost, and lost for ever, its independence. 
Then " the kingdom was taken away from Damascus," 
" Damascus was taken away from being a city " (Isaiah xvii. 

Paul's conversion. 

Eight centuries pass — eight centuries of wars and revolutions. 
Damascus has become a Roman city. But it is temporarily 
held by a rebel prince, Aretas, king of Arabia. It is a time of 
national disturbance, for the empire has been suddenly left 
without a head. It is a time, too, of grave anxiety and fear 
among the members of the little Christian Church in the city. 
Saul of Tarsus, having dipped his hands in the blood of the first 
Christian martyr, and having well-nigh extinguished the Church 
in the Holy City, is on his way to Damascus "breathing 
threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord " 
(Acts ix. 1). But Jesus whom he persecuted met him on the 
way, and when he enters the city he is no longer the proud, 
ruthless persecutor ; he is the humble, blind, conscience-stricken 
disciple, breathing the prayer, " Lord, what wouldest thou have 
me to do V 

This miracle of mercy and of power made Damascus " holy 
ground." It exalted it to an honoured place by the side of 
Bethlehem and Nazareth, Jerusalem and Hermon. The Son 
of God was there, if not in the flesh, in glory and in power, 
appearing to Paul as unto " one born out of due time " (1 Cor. 
xv. 8). In Damascus the great missionary of the Gentiles first 
preached the gospel (Acts ix. 19, 20). There he first ex- 
perienced the bitterness of the persecution he had himself been 
instrumental in kindling. He became the object of special 
hatred to his infatuated countrymen. His labours in the city 
roused the indignation of the Jews, and the success of his 
evangelistic work in Arabia, Aretas' hereditary kingdom, excited 
the suspicions and fears of the rulers, so that " the governor 
under Aretas the king kept the city of the Damascenes with a 



342 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



garrison, desirous to apprehend me ; and through a window, in 
a basket, was I let down by the wall, and escaped his hands " 
(2 Cor. xi. 32, 33). 

Tradition has localized every event in Paul's story, — the 
scene of the conversion, the " street called Straight," the house 
of Judas, the spot where the angel appeared to Ananias, the 
window in the city wall, — all are pointed out. Time after time 
I have visited them. Most of them may be apocryphal, some 
of them are unquestionably so ; but in this " city of the infidel," 
they have all an intense interest for the Christian. They rouse 
him to a sense of the reality of great events, and of the power 
of great principles and truths, which he is only too apt to forget. 
The Straight Street is real. There can be no doubt about it. 
And on the old wall I have seen many a projecting chamber, 
and many a latticed window from which a friendly hand could 
" let down " a fugitive. 



ASPECT OF THE CITY. 

How beautiful for situation is Damascus ! Its own poets 
have called it " The pearl of the East." The view of the city 
and plain from the brow of Lebanon is unequalled in Syria, — 
probably it is unsurpassed in the world. One gazes upon it 
enraptured when before him ; and when far away, though long 
years have intervened, memory dwells upon it as upon some 
bright and joyous vision of childhood's happy days. Forty 
centuries have passed over the city, yet it retains the freshness 
of youth. Its palaces look as gorgeous, its houses as gay, its 
gold-tipped minarets and domes as bright as if only completed 
yesterday. Its gardens and orchards and far-reaching groves, 
rich in foliage and blossoms, wrap the city round like a mantle 
of green velvet powdered with pearls. Its rivers, better yet than 
all the waters of Israel, having burst their mountain barriers, 
send a thousand streams meandering over its plain, sparkling 



THE STREET SCENES OF DAMASCUS. 343 

in the sunlight, and spreading verdure and beauty along their 
course. 

The city looks so peaceful there, reposing in its evergreen 
bower, far removed from the din of commerce, and the rude 
whirl of modern life, and the jarring turmoil of the world's 
politics, that one would think it had never felt the shock of war, 
that its soil had never been polluted by crime, and that Abana 
and Pharpar had never run red with the blood of thousands 
slaughtered mercilessly. 

Distance lends enchantment to the view. To me Damascus 
looked like a vision of Paradise when I first saw it, — all peace 
and beauty. The vision has been rudely dissipated, — it vanished 
the moment I crossed the city gate. Without, nature smiled 
joyously, the landscape was bathed in the ruddy light of the 
declining sun ; the apricot orchards seemed to blush at their 
own surpassing loveliness, and the gentle breezes that rustled 
softly through the feathery tops of the palms were laden with 
the perfume of the rose and the violet. Within, how great, 
how painful was the contrast ! Houses, mosques, streets, all 
the works of man, in fact, bore the marks of neglect and decay; 
and man himself seemed to sit there mourning moodily over 
waning glory. The houses are shapeless piles of sun-dried 
bricks and wood, and sadly out of repair ; the streets are narrow, 
crooked and filthy, paved with big rough stones, and half covered 
with ragged mats and withered branches. Scores of miserable 
dogs lie in the dust, too lazy to bark, or even to crawl from 
under the horse's feet. In little stalls like shelves, along the 
sides of these lanes, squat ranges of long-bearded, white- 
turbaned, sallow- visaged men, telling their beads, and mingling 
with muttered prayers to Allah curses deep and deadly on the 
infidels who dare to cross their path or enter their holy city. 
But the oddest sights the stranger's eye falls on are the women. 
He can scarcely tell at first what they are. Not a feature, not 
a member is visible, except the two feet, encased in quaint- 



344 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



looking yellow boots. Head, arms, hands, body, — the whole 
person, in short, is wrapt up in a thing like a winding-sheet. 
Thus arrayed they stalk about like ghosts come back from 
another world to torment those who doomed them on earth to 
lives of slavery. 

In the centre of the city the houses are better, and the 
bazaars richer. The people that crowd them, too, are better 
dressed, and their costumes more varied. In fact, nearly all 
the costumes of the world are there, and one is never tired 
looking and laughing at them. 

Damascus has been often described. Nearly every nook and 
corner has been explored, and its wonders laid before Europe 
by the pen, the pencil, or the photograph. Everybody now 
knows all about the internal splendour of its palaces, and the 
fabled beauty of their inmates. I shall not here add a word to 
what has been written on these subjects. I have another tale 
to tell — a sad tale, but one which illustrates the character oi 
the people who now rule this unhappy land ; and which shows 
how vividly its future doom was pictured before the eyes of God's 
prophets, in ancient days. The recent massacres are but fulfil- 
ments of Ezekiel's predictions: u I will bring the worst of the 

heathen, and they shall possess their houses Destructio?i cometh, 

and they shall seek peace, and there shall be none' 1 (vii. 24, 25). 

the Massacre of i860. 

A sad change has taken place in Damascus even since I was 
there. A whole quarter of the city has been burned, and nearly 
six thousand of its inhabitants butchered. This terrible tragedy, 
unparalleled since the days of Tamerlane, demands a passing 
notice ; and its authors and abettors deserve to be held up to 
the execration of generations to come. The Christians of the 
city have been all but annihilated ; and for no other reason 
than that they were Christians. Their bones lie unburied amid 
the ashes of their homes ; and their blood, which has sunk into 



THE MASSACRE OF DAMASCUS. 



345 



the ground, cries, if not for vengeance, at least for justice, upon 
that race of tyrant fanatics, who terminated ages of unceasing 
persecution by a wholesale massacre. 

On the morning of Monday, July 9th, i860, Damascus con- 
tained some twenty-three thousand Christians, including seven 
thousand refugees from Lebanon. The Christians occupied a 
distinct quarter of the city, near the East Gate, and extending 
on both sides of the Straight Street. In intelligence and enter- 
prise they were far in advance of the Mohammedans. They 
were peaceable and respectful in demeanour. Most of them, 
imbued with hereditary fear, cringed before the proud Muslems 
who had so long ruled them. They had taken no part in the 
struggle between Druse and Maronite. They were in no way 
connected with the mountain tribes. There was not a single 
Druse in the city; and the Christians had no quarrel with 
their Muslem fellow-citizens. 

For a week or two previous threats had been uttered ; and 
the Christians, unarmed and helpless, began to anticipate evil. 
For several days they had shut themselves up in their houses, 
hoping thus to escape insult and injury. It was in vain. About 
two o'clock on the day referred to, an excited mob was seen by 
a resident Englishman proceeding toward the Christian quarter, 
shouting their well-known war-cry, Ullahu Akbar / He guessed 
their purpose, and he tried to stop them. He was known 
widely, and respected by all classes, yet his life would have 
fallen a sacrifice to his humanity, had not a friend — a Moham- 
medan of rank — removed him from the street. 

The mob rapidly increased. A few were armed with old 
muskets and pistols ; others had daggers, axes, clubs, and such 
rude weapons as first came to hand. Boys and women were 
there; the latter urging on the men. Having reached the 
Straight Street, on the borders of the Christian quarter, they, 
after a brief pause, made a rush upon the house of the Russian 
consul — a Greek, who had become especially obnoxious to the 



346 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



fanatics. The door was strong, but it soon yielded to blows of 
axes. The inmates, paralyzed by fear, did not attempt resist- 
ance. Every male was instantly murdered. From room to 
room the fiends ran in search of the consul, who had gone out 
a short time before. When they could not find him, they seized 
the women, dragged them into the open court, and there 
treated them with the most inhuman barbarity. They then 
pillaged the house and set it on fire. — This was the first act in 
the tragedy. 

House after house was now broken open. The male inhabi- 
tants — old men and infants — were all murdered ; the females 
outraged; valuables carried off; and the torch applied. Night 
came, but the carnage did not cease. The flames of the burn- 
ing houses lighted up the whole city, revealing in every street 
and lane scenes of brutal outrage and savage cruelty, such as 
the world has seldom witnessed. 

A large body of the more respectable Christians, seeing that 
nothing less than their total extermination was aimed at, left 
their homes and sought an asylum in the houses of Muslem 
friends. But they soon found that fanaticism ignores friendship. 
All were received with coldness; some were driven away; and 
not a few were handed over to the mob. A considerable 
number, however, contrived to reach the Castle, which was 
occupied by a Turkish garrison ; and eventually most of the 
women and children found a refuge there, or in the house of 
Abd-el-Kader. 

The outbreak was known to the Pasha from the commence- 
ment. He had been warned of the danger long ere it occurred. 
A dozen energetic police could have quelled it when the 
Russian consulate was attacked. Fifty soldiers could have 
quelled the mob at any moment during the massacre. On the 
first evening a company of Turkish "regulars," with some native 
police, were sent to the scene of the outbreak, but they at once 
fraternized with the mob. A British subject, who was an eye- 



MURDER OF MR. GRAHAM. 



347 



witness of the leading events during that reign of terror, saw 
soldiers and citizens together plundering, burning, and murder- 
ing. When resistance was offered in any house, it was set on 
fire j and when the wretched inmates, old or young, men or 
women, attempted to escape, the soldiers drove them back into 
the flames with the points of their bayonets. When the troops 
and mob fraternized, the doom of the Christians was sealed. 
Before that time only a small number of the lowest rabble had 
taken part in the outbreak ; now the fanatical of every class, 
high and low, rich and poor, rushed to the onslaught. To pre- 
vent the possibility of resistance, a united plan of attack was 
organized. A strong breeze was blowing from the west ; they 
began at that side of the Christian quarter, and burned all 
before them. For three days and three nights this terrible work 
of pillage, burning, and slaughter continued. It ceased only 
when every article of value was carried off, every house in 
ashes, and every male either dead or in a place of refuge. 

Among the victims was the Rev. William Graham, missionary 
of the Presbyterian Church in Ireland. At the commencement 
of the outbreak, he saw a young Christian lying in the street, 
wounded and dying. Thoughtless of danger, he ran for a 
surgeon ; but he was soon assailed by the mob and forced to 
fly for his life. He took refuge in the house of a Muslem, 
called Mustapha Agha, chief of the police — a man who had 
gained his wealth and his office through the influence of the 
English consul. The Agha would scarcely admit him; and 
when at length he forced his way in, pursued by a blood-thirsty 
mob, he found that Mustapha and his police were among the 
most active agents of destruction. During the night, Mr. 
Graham escaped, and found a temporary asylum with another 
Muslem. It appears that in the course of the following day, 
Mustapha Agha heard where Mr. Graham was concealed, and 
sent a number of his police with a traitorous message, that they 
had orders from the Pasha to escort him, and other refugees, to 



348 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



the house of the English consul. Under this escort Graham 
and a number of others set out ; but with one exception they 
never reached their destination. Poor Graham fell in the open 
street, pierced by the bullets of his ruffian escort ! 

The events which followed the massacres, and the prolonged 
inquiries and discussions of commissioners, are well known. 
The wily Turks succeeded as usual in their crafty policy of 
arraying against each other the rival ambassadors and govern- 
ments of Europe. The Christian quarter of Damascus is still a 
blackened ruin. Merchants, once rich and prosperous, are 
dependants on charity. Vast numbers of widows and orphans 
are homeless, penniless wanderers. The Turkish Government, 
by treachery and cruelty without a parallel, have gained their 
object. They have all but annihilated Christian influence in 
Syria. They have destroyed the prestige of European power 
in that country, and they have so far prepared the way for 
carrying out their own destructive policy without fear of internal 
opposition. 

When will English statesmen open their eyes to the true 
character of the Turks % When will they turn their attention 
to the real source of all the troubles and calamities of unhappy 
Syria? The massacre of i860 was no sudden or unexpected 
ebullition of popular fury; it was long premeditated and skilfully 
planned. Mohammedans were its projectors. The first im- 
pulse was given from Constantinople. Turkish officials in 
Syria, high and low, fostered the fanatical spirit of the populace, 
and even when the guilt of these men was proved, every 
possible effort was made in high places to screen them from the 
punishment so justly due to their crimes. 

Our own noble commissioner, Lord Dufferin, acted in his 
difficult and delicate position with an energy and an enlightened 
zeal worthy of all praise. In him England had a fitting repre- 
sentative. To him the Christian sects in Syria, and the Druses 
also, owe a debt of gratitude which they can never repay. He 



" THE STREET CALLED STRAIGHT." 



349 



took a wise and statesmanlike view of Syria's dangers and 
wants ; and had his policy been adopted it would have gone 
far to secure the lasting peace, and promote the permanent 
prosperity of that unhappy country. 

HOLY PLACES OF DAMASCUS. 

In and around Damascus tradition has located the scenes of 
many events recorded in sacred history. A few of these are 
worthy of notice, as tending to illustrate Bible history. 

The Straight Street. — " Arise, and go into the street which is 
called Straight, and inquire in the house of Judas for one called 
Saul of Tarsus" (Acts rfi. n). The old city — the nucleus of 
Damascus — is oval in shape, and surrounded by a wall, the 
foundations of which are Roman, if not earlier, and the upper 
part a patch-work of all subsequent ages. Its greatest diametei 
is marked by the Straight Street, which is an English mile in 
length. At its east end is Bab Shurky, "the East Gate," a fine 
Roman portal, having a central and two side arches. The 
central and southern arches have been walled up for more than 
eight centuries, and the northern now forms the only entrance 
to the city. In front of it are the massive remains of a tower 
built in the early days of Muslem rule. The present appear- 
ance of the gateway is picturesque though dilapidated. The 
crumbling Saracenic battlements and wooden minaret contrasting 
well with the massive simplicity of the Roman architecture. In 
the Roman age, and down to the time of the Mohammedan 
conquest (a.d. 634) a noble street ran in a straight line from 
the gate westward through the city. It was divided by 
Corinthian colonnades into three avenues, opposite to the three 
portals. A modem street runs in the line of the old one ; but 
it is narrow and irregular. Though many of the columns 
remain, they are mostly hidden by the houses and shops. This 
is "the street called Straight," along which Paul was led by the 
hand, and in which was the house of Judas, where he lodged. 



55° 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



IVie Great Mosque. — Tradition has placed in one of the crypts 
of this vast structure " the head of John the Baptist," and has 
thus made it " the sanctuary of Damascus." The building was 
originally a temple, erected on the plan of that at Jerusalem. 
In the fourth century it was remodelled and made the Cathedral 
Church ; and in the eighth century it was appropriated by the 
Mohammedans. Its form is that of a church or basilica, with 
nave and aisles divided by Corinthian columns. In the centre 
is a small dome; and at one side is a spacious cloistered court, 
flagged with marble, and ornamented with fountains. It is the 
most conspicuous building in the city, its dome and three lofty 
minarets being seen from a great distance. Near it is the castle 
or citadel, a huge pile founded in the days of the city's power, 
and now fast falling to ruin. Within its walls many of the 
Christians found an asylum during the massacre. 

Place of 'Paul's Conversion. — A tradition as old as the time of 
the Crusades locates this " holy place " about ten miles south- 
west of the city, near a village called Kaukab. In the spring of 
1858 I made a pilgrimage to it. It was a sunny day, and all 
nature looked bright and beautiful. The ride was charming ; 
at first through luxuriant gardens, and orchards, and groves, 
where — 

" The vines in light festoons 
From tree to tree, the trees in avenues, 
And every avenue a covered walk, 
Hung with black clusters." 

From a sombre olive-grove I emerged on the open plain, and 
soon found the line of the ancient road — the road along which 
Paul must have come. It crosses a low ridge which separates 
the valleys of the Abana and Pharpar; and on the top of the 
ridge is the scene of the conversion. There appeared to me to 
be much probability in the tradition. At this spot the traveller 
from the south obtains his first view of Damascus. On gaining 
it Paul saw before him the city to which he was bound. His 
fiery zeal would naturally be inflamed by the sight, and anew 



SCENE OF PA UVS CONVERSION. 3 5 J 

he would there " breathe out threatenings and slaughter against 
the disciples of the Lord." Would it not seem that that was 
the time when his proud spirit was humbled ; and when the 
passions of the fanatic were quenched for ever by the flood of 
divine grace 1 " As he journeyed, he came near Damascus; and 
suddenly there shined round about him a light from heaven " 
(Acts. ix. 3). 

I could not resist the belief that I there stood upon the very 
scene of the miracle. But be this as it may, the features of the 
landscape were the same as Paul saw; — on the left rose Hermon 
in all its majesty, a spotless pyramid of snow; the long range 
of Anti-Lebanon, gray and bleak, stretching eastward to the 
horizon ; the broad plain in front, with its many-tinted foliage ; 
all around little villages embowered in blooming orchards; and 
away in the distance the bright buildings of the city. The same 
figures, too, gave life to the landscape; — long strings of camels 
bearing the wheat of Bashan; cavaliers from the desert armed 
with sword and spear; peasants in the fields driving their yokes 
of oxen with sharp goads — goads which illustrated, if they did 
not suggest, the words of the Lord, " It is hard for thee to kick 
against the goads." The same cloudless sky was there ; and the 
same sun, pouring down a flood of light on city, plain, and 
mountain. "At mid-day suddenly a great light," shone from 
heaven; and the greatness of that light those only can know 
who have seen and felt a Syrian sun shining in its strength, and 
who remember that the light which shone on Paul was " above 
the brightness of the sun" (Acts xxvi. 13). 

The Sanctuary of Abraham, or Makam Ibrahim as the Arabs 
call it, is three miles north of Damascus, at the opening of a 
wild ravine which runs far up into the heart of Anti-Lebanon. 
It is a rude mosque built on the side of a naked cliff, its inner 
chamber opening into a deep cleft. Several legends are attached 
to it. Some say Abraham was born there; others, that he 
worshipped God at that spot when he turned back from the 



352 



NORTHERN BORDER LAND. 



pursuit of the kings who had plundered Sodom (Gen. xiv. 15) ; 
others, that he had an altar there when he was King of Damascus ; 
but, probably, the oldest reference to it is that which Josephus 
quotes from the historian Nicolas : — " The name of Abraham is 
still famous at Damascus; and a village is shown there which 
takes its name from the patriarch, being called the ' Habitation 
of Abraham'" {Ant. i. 7. 2). 

Helbon. — The prophet says of Tyre, "Damascus was thy 
merchant .... in the wine of Helbon and white wool " (Ezek. 
xxvii. 18). At the head of the ravine, at whose mouth is the 
" Habitation of Abraham," lies the village of Helbon. Its 
narrow valley is shut in by steep bare cliffs, and long shelving 
banks, from two to three thousand feet in height. The bottom 
of the glen is filled with luxuriant orchards; and terraced vine- 
yards extend far up the mountain slopes, the vines often cling- 
ing to spots where one would think no human foot could rest. 
The village consists of about fifty substantial houses, clustering 
round an old mosque, from beneath which bursts a noble foun- 
tain. Over the fountain is a porch resting on antique columns ; 
and a hollowed stone, with a Greek legend bearing the name of 
the " Great King Markos," receives the water. Along the 
terraces and in the valley below are extensive ruins. This is 
the Helbon of Ezekiel; and these are the vineyards which pro- 
duced the wine famed alike in the marts of Tyre and in the 
court of Persia. 

TJie Tomb of Abel. — The Damascenes believe that the Garden 
of Eden was situated in their own plain, and that the clay of 
which Adam was formed was taken from the bank of the Abana. 
It is not strange, therefore, that they should have located the 
tomb of Abel in the same region. On a lofty cliff overhanging 
the sublime glen of the Abana, about fifteen miles north of 
Damascus, is the reputed tomb. It measures thirty feet in length. 
Beside it are the ruins of a small temple. Looking down from 
that dizzy height one sees, in and around a modern village, the 



THE TOMB OF ABEL. 



353 



ruins of an ancient city ; while the dark openings and facades, 
which thickly dot the opposite cliff, mark its necropolis. In 
this city one can trace the probable origin of the curious tradi- 
tion of Abel's tomb. The city, as we learn from a Latin inscrip- 
tion on the side of an old excavated road, was called Abila; 
and it was not difficult for imaginative Arabs to form out of this 
name the story of Abel's tomb. 

But Abila itself has some sacred interest. It was the capital 
of that province of Abilene of which Lysanias was tetrarch when 
John the Baptist entered on his public ministry (Luke iii. i). 
The site is singularly wild and romantic. Just above it the 
Abana cuts through the central chain of Anti-Lebanon ; but as 
it makes a sharp turn, one can only see a vast recess in the 
mountain side, backed by a semi-circle of cliffs from three to 
four hundred feet high. Within this recess, looking out on the 
windings of the glen below, lie the ruins of Abila ; and in the 
rocks and precipices overhead are its tombs, 



APPENDIX. 




APPENDIX. 



A, 




HE following estimate of the numbers murdered in Syria during 
the massacres of i860, was drawn up with great care by the 
Rev. S. Robson of Damascus, and kindly given to me. It is 
much lower than my own estimate founded on official docu- 



ments, and letters from friends during, and immediately after, the insur- 
rection. It is probably nearer the truth than mine, for, during the excite- 
ment of those fearful scenes, it was impossible, even for the soberest minds, 
to avoid exaggeration ; and very many who had succeeded in escaping, or 
secreting themselves, were at first supposed to have been killed. I have 
heard of one who remained for four days in a well ; of another who lay for 
a considerable time under a heap of slain ; of several who apostatized. 

No estimate of the numbers actually murdered can give an adequate idea 
of the terrible results of those massacres. Thousands who escaped the sword 
died of fright, of famine, or of subsequent privations. Those murdered were 
men, mostly in the prime of life, the only stay and support of wives and 
children. Their houses were burned; their property was swept away; all 
means of support were taken from them. The survivors were driven forth, 
homeless, penniless, and in some cases naked and wounded. Many of the 
women and girls,' too, were, according to the usual Muslem practice, made 
the slaves of their brutal persecutors. 

Mr. Robson's careful statement will be read with much interest : — 
"After the massacre in Damascus the clergy and chief people of each 
sect made out a list of the persons belonging to their community who were 
killed, as far as it was possible, to ascertain their names. Those lists con- 
tained the names of about twelve hundred of the known inhabitants of the city. 
It is certain, therefore, that that number, at least of persons permanently 
resident in Damascus, perished during the three days of the massacre. 



35§ 



APPENDIX. 



" But besides these there was in the city at the time of the massacre, as 
at all times, a considerable number of strangers, who were brought by some 
business, and were staying for a longer or shorter time in lodgings in various 
parts of the city — in the Mohammedan as well as in the Christian quarter. 
Of these some were from other towns or districts of Syria, some were Syrians 
from Mesopotamia, a few were from places farther east, a few were Copts, 
and others from Egypt, and many were Armenians from Asia Minor and 
Constantinople. It is impossible to ascertain how many persons of this class 
were killed in the massacre. 

1 ' Another class of strangers in Damascus at the time of the massacre con- 
sisted of the Christian inhabitants of the surrounding villages, who had taken 
refuge in the city from the dangers which threatened them in their own 
homes. Some of the people of Hasbeiya and a large number of those of 
Rasheiya, who had escaped from the massacres in those towns, fled to Da- 
mascus. And during the month which elapsed between those massacres 
and that in the city, the Christians, men, women, and children, fled to the 
city from all the villages in the plain of Damascus, and from most of those 
in Hennon, Wady et-Teim, and Anti-Lebanon. These refugees amounted 
to several thousands. They were lodged in the churches, schools, and con- 
vents, and in unoccupied khans and houses, and they were daily fed by the 
charity of their co-religionists in the city. For that purpose money was 
collected from the people and donations were made from the church funds. 
The majority of these refugees were of the Greek Church. Being crowded 
together, and mostly in public places as churches and schoolrooms, a very 
large number of them was killed. It is certain that in proportion to their 
numbers many more of them were killed than of the inhabitants of the city, 
but there were no means of ascertaining the exact number who perished. 

"The opinion, however, of those best able to judge is that the number 
of strangers killed exceeded that of the inhabitants who perished. The best 
estimates of the number vary from thirteen hundred to fifteen hundred. 

"Iam sure, therefore, that I am rather below than above the truth in 
saying that on the the 9th, 10th, and nth of July, i860, there were murdered 
in Damascus at least two thousand five hundred adult male Christians. This 
is the conclusion to which I have come after the most careful inquiries. 

"The most careful estimates put down the number massacred in the castle 
of Hasbeiya, on the afternoon of the nth of June, at about twelve hundred, 
and the number similarly massacred on the same day in the castle of Rasheiya 
at about three hundred and fifty. 

"Just about one half of the adult males of Deir el-Kamr perished in the 
massacre in that town. The most exact estimates make the number of killed 
to be between eleven and twelve hundred. 

"A few days previous to the massacres of Hasbeiya and Rasheiya about 



APPENDIX, 



359 



one hundred and twenty Christians were massacred at a village called Kina- 
kir, on the west border of the Hauran. 

" About the same time — that is immediately after the commencement of the 
war in Lebanon — a large body of Christians fled from the mountains to take 
refuge in Sidon. The gates of the city were closed against them, and they 
were obliged to remain in the gardens. There they were attacked by the 
Druses from the Lebanon, and the Mohammedans from the city, and about 
three hundred were killed. 

" These are all the massacres ; but a few Christians were killed in almost 
every village in which there were Christian inhabitants around Damascus ; 
in the Ghutah, Wady el-Ajam, Hermon, Upper Wady et-Teim, Lower 
Wady et-Teim, and Anti-Lebanon, and also in the Bekaa and Belad Baal- 
bek. In some villages only two or three, in many six or eight or more, and 
in a few considerably more were thus murdered ; but no accurate estimate 
of the whole number is known to me. These murders were very deplorable 
in themselves, but the number of them is small when compared with that of 
the persons killed in the massacres, and I omit them entirely from the calcu- 
lation I am about to give. I omit also, of course, those who were killed in 
war. 

" The following is then the best summary I can give : — 



Damascus about 2,500 

Hasbeiya..„ ,, 1,200 



Rasheiya 

Deir el-Kamr 

Sidon 

Kinakir 



3So 

300 
120 



5,620 



" If to these five thousand six hundred and twenty were added those killed, 
as noticed above, in the villages of Damascus, Hermon, Anti- Lebanon, and 
the Bekaa, we may safely say that about six thousand adult male Chfistians 
were murdered in cold blood in the massacres in Syria in June and Jtcly i860." 



B. 

The following most interesting narrative of his personal sufferings, and 
wonderful escape from the hands of a blood-thirsty mob, was written by Dr, 
Meshakah in August i860, for and at the request of the Rev. S. Robsou. 



3 6 ° 



APPENDIX. 



The original document in Arabic is in Mr. Robson's possession, and he 
kindly favoured me with this translation. 

I may state that Dr. Meshakah is a Protestant, one of the first fruits of 
the Damascus mission. He is a man of considerable learning, of high 
talent, and of good social position. He was held in the highest respect by 
all sects and classes; and being a physician, and having great influence with 
the government and with foreign consuls, he had many opportunities of serv- 
ing others. These he never failed to embrace, and numbers of Mohamme- 
dans had experienced his kindness. Some years ago he was appointed vice- 
consul for the United States of America. His janizary, a Mohammedan, 
proved faithful, and by his courage and devotion was the means of saving 
his life. 

TRANSLATION. 

" Narrative of what happened to me in the year i860 : — 

" In the morning of Monday the 9th of July the city was perfectly quiet, 
and his lordship, the Emir Abd el-Kadir, 1 went on his own business to the 
village of El-Ashrafiyeh. 

" At two o'clock in the afternoon an insurrection broke out in the city, 
because the authorities had put in irons some individuals who had that day 
made figures of crosses in the streets, and compelled the Christians who 
passed by to trample on them. 3 

" I was then alone in my house. My janizary aud my eldest son were 
absent on business in the palace, and my second son was at school. As 
soon as the outbreak began, my janizary, Hajy Aly Alwan, hastened home, 
but the insurrection had already reached the neighbourhood of my house, 
and it was no longer possible for me to go out of it alone. I sent the jani- 
zary, therefore, to the Emir Abd el-Kadir, and requested him to send some 
of his men to protect me. It happened that he had that moment returned 
from El-Ashrafiyeh, and had with him only six of his followers. He sent 
me four of them, but as they were unarmed they were unable to reach me. 
My janizary, however, bravely ventured and came to me alone. 

" When he came we locked the doors of the house. Almost immediately 
several armed men arrived and began to break the door with hatchets. I 
had only just time to put into my pocket a quantity of gold and silver coin 
which I had provided in anticipation of such an occasion, when the door was 
broken open, and the armed men — most of them Kurdish irregular soldiers 
— burst in and began to fire at me. I escaped, and while they were 
occupied in plundering the house, I went out of the back door with the 
janizary, and my two little children, Abraham and Selma. At first I hoped 
to conceal myself in the house of one of my Moslem neighbours, till it might 
be possible for me to escape to the house of Abd el-Kadir ; but not one of 



APPENDIX. 



36' 



them would admit me. 3 Then I attempted to go in the direction of the 
Emir's house ; but a mob met me and fired upon me. I threw some coins 
among them to occupy their attention, and I turned back in the direction of 
the place called Bab Titvia (' Thomas' Gate ') where there was a guard of 
soldiers. There another armed party met me and fired upon me. I threw 
to them also a quantity of coins, as I had done to the former party. Again 
I turned back and took a third way, and again a large party of armed men 
met me. I knew eight of these men, and gave their names to the Govern- 
ment, and six of them have been arrested. Some of these men attacked me 
with fire-arms, some with swords, some with hatchets and axes, and some 
with clubs. My two little children were behind me weeping, and scream- 
ing, and saying, 4 Kill us and spare our father, for we cannot live without 
him ! ' One of these cruel men struck my little daughter with a hatchet, 
and wounded her. The attention of this party also I engaged by throwing 
money to them. Praise be to His name, none of the shots struck me, 
though one man fired twice at me from a distance of only two or three 
yards ; but I was wounded with other weapons. I got a dangerous wound 
on the head from the blow of a hatchet ; and had not the janizary turned it 
partly aside, and caught the arm of the murderer, the blow would have 
killed me. I received also on the eye a blow from a large club, on my right 
shoulder a cut of a sword, and several blows on my right arm, in consequence 
of which I cannot yet hold a pen in my right hand. On my left arm I got 
only one blow of a club. I had several wounds also in other parts of my 
body. 

"Amid all this danger and struggle, I reached the Bazaar of Bab Tuma 
with the assistance of the janizary who kept constantly by me. Mustafa 
Bey, 4 the chief of the police in that quarter of the city, was in the bazaar, 
and I begged him to take me to his house ; but though his house was close 
at hand, he refused, and ordered some of his men to put me in the house of 
Faris el-Khalaf, one of his followers, and a man notorious for wickedness. 
He went away with his followers and occupied himself in collecting his 
friends to his house, as I could see from the windows of the room in which 
I was left. I could see also the breaking of doors, and the plundering of 
Christian houses, and the murdering of the men. Mustafa Bey's men were 
busy plundering, and they brought some of the booty to the house in which 
I was. That made me think that some of the murderers would come and 
kill me, as happened to many of the Christians who were murdered in the 
houses of the Mohammedans where they had taken refuge. I resolved, 
therefore, as soon as night came, to leave the house I was in, and go to that 
of Mustafa Bey himself, hoping that he would not venture to kill me openly 
in his own house. 

" As soon as it was dark, a number of armed men came to the door and 



3 62 



APPENDIX. 



asked for me. The door was opened, and I thought they had come to kill 
me ; but when they entered I found that they belonged to the Emir Abd 
el-Kadir, that one of my Mohammedan friends, Mohammed es-Sutery, was 
with them, and that they had come to save me. They took me to the Emir, 
who received me with all kindness ; but as I was covered with blood from 
my wounds, and his house was filled with a crowd of Christians, he permitted 
Mohammed es-Sutery to take me to his house which was very near. He 
removed me at once ; and leaving me in his house, went in search of my 
family, from the last of whom I was separated before entering the house in 
winch Mustafa Bey put me. He continued his search all night, and brought to 
me all the members of my family, except my second son Selim, who remained 
hidden for three days, while I supposed he was murdered. 

"I shall state how it happened that Es-Sutery came to the house of Mustafa 
Bey's follower to seek me. As soon as he saw the insurrection begun in 
the city, he hastened to my house with a number of his friends to save 
me. He found it plundered and abandoned ; but he searched for me till he 
learned that I had got to Mustafa Bey. He went to him and demanded me 
from him. Mustafa declared he did not know where I was. This caused 
es-Sutery to distrust and fear him. He went, therefore, immediately to the 
Emir Abd el-Kadir, told him what had happened, and assured him that I 
had fallen into the hands of Mustafa Bey alive. The Emir at once sent 
with him eight chosen men of his armed Algerines. They demanded me 
from Mustafa, and he, unable longer to deny his knowledge of my hiding- 
place, sent his nephew to guide them to me. 

" On account of my wounds I remained a whole month in the house of Mo- 
hammed es-Sutery, and was treated with the greatest kindness and respect. 

"I and my family reached his house, stripped of our clothes, and robbed of 
everything else we possessed. My little daughter and myself were wounded. 
I had only two or three piastres left of the money I had put in my pocket ; but 
Sheikh Selim Effendi 5 sent us clothes and other necessaries, and money for 
our daily expenses, though he had in his house at the time about a hundred 
Christians, all whose wants he was supplying. As for me, on the morning 
of July the 9th, I was one of the rich, and on the morning of the loth I was 
one of the poorest ; but in every state I praise the most high God for saving 
me and my family alive. 

" The distrust I felt of the house in which I was first placed, turned out to 
be well founded, for after the arrival of Fuad Pasha, it was proved that 
Mustafa Bey and his nephews and followers, had in various ways killed 
hundreds of Christians, and among them the Rev. William Graham. But 
the Most High and Holy One delivered me from their brutality. Mustafa 
Bey, two of his nephews, and several of his followers, were hanged on the 
20th of the following month. 



APPENDIX. 



3«3 



" The insurrection commenced in the bazaars in the city, and did not reach 
me till an hour afterwards. Meantime the English Consul requested the 
Pasha to send a guard to my house. The Pasha replied he had sent a 
colonel to protect me ; 6 but no one ever came to me from the Government." 



The following notes to this narrative are kindly communicated by Mr. 
Robson, and will serve to throw light on some of the incidents and state- 
ments. 

1. "The Emir Abd el-Kadir was a chief of the Moors of Algiers, and 
their most distinguished leader in the protracted struggle against France. 
After a long and brave resistance, he fell into the hands of the conquerors, 
in the reign of Louis Philippe. He was afterwards released from confine- 
ment and exiled to Damascus, where he resided for a number of years 
previous to i860. On account of his high rank, his fame as a warrior, and 
his zeal as Mohammedan, he had great influence in Damascus with both the 
people and the government. A large number of Algerines, too haughty and 
bigoted to live under a conquering infidel power, have emigrated to Syria. 
Many of them live in and around Damascus. These all obey the Emir as 
their chief. The Emir, like every one else in the city, had been for some 
weeks dreading a massacre. Though an earnest Mohammedan he was 
anxious to prevent it; and he made arrangements for arming the Algerines, 
and employing them in defending or saving the Christians. He had been 
constantly on the alert for two or three weeks previous to Monday the 9th ; 
but means had been taken to persuade him that all danger was past. 
Hence, as Meshakah says, the city seemed perfectly quiet on that morning, 
and the Emir went from home on private business. 

2. "The arrest of two Mohammedans for publicly insulting Christians 
was, of course, not the cause of the insurrection, but a pretext for accom- 
plishing a previotisly arranged plan. 

3. " Dr. Meshakah often had it in his power to serve in various ways his 
Mohammedan neighbours, and never neglected an opportunity of doing so. 
Yet when his life was in danger — when he was hunted by a blood-thirsty 
mob, not one of them would give him shelter ! Mrs. Meshakah went among 
them from door to door, begging them to receive her husband. She pro- 
strated herself on the ground before their wives and daughters, kissed their 
feet, and with streaming eyes offered them her jewels, even the very hair of 
her head. But not one of them was moved to pity ! 

4. " Mustafa Bey had received much kindness from English Consuls, 
and always professed the greatest friendship for Englishmen. Dr. Meshakah 
was long in the employment of the English consulate, was a British subject, 



3 6 4 



APPENDIX. 



and had been for many years a personal friend of Mustafa Bey. It was 
natural for him to expect protection from Mustafa. There is, however, no 
doubt now on the mind of any one acquainted with the facts, that if Abd 
el-Kadir's men had not rescued him from the house in which Mustafa placed 
him, he would have been murdered before morning. 

5. "The Sheikh Selim Effendi is a Mohammedan. Had it not been for 
Abd el-Kadir, Sheikh Selim and a few others of a similar spirit, the slaughter 
of the Christians would have been much greater than it was. Such men 
deserve grateful and honourable mention. 

6. ' ' This is a specimen of the deceitful policy of the Pasha and the other 
Turkish authorities during the preparation for and progress of the massacre." 




TEXTS OF SCRIPTURE 

ILLUSTRATED OR EXPLAINED. 



Page 

Gen, x. 15-18 271 

xii. 8 175 

xiii. 3-10 175 

xiv. 5 43, 67, 84 

xiv. 10 112 

xv. 18 302 

xvi. 12 28, 31, 324 

xviii. 5 326 

xix. 2 194 

xix. 27, 28 113 

xxiv. 63 159 

xxvii. 33 193 

xxviii. 14 171 

xlix. 14, 15 246 

xlix. 21 258, 261 

Exodus xxiii. 22-31 302 

Lev. xxvi. 30-34 49, 51, 54, 58, 108, 

180, 243, 320 

Num. xxxii. 42 42 

xxxiv. 4-9 282, 303, 310 

Deut. iii. 4 24 

iii. 9 30 

iii. 11 13 

viii. 7-9 57 

xii. 2 239 

xxv. 4 201 

xxviii. 23 207 

xxix. 22-24 58 

xxxiii. 19 240 

Josh. vii. 4-20 176 

x 7 173 

xi. 1, 2 23s 



Page 

Josh. xi. 7 270 

xi. 17 301 

xii. 7 302 

xiii. 4-6 271, 281, 285, 303 

xiii. 11, 12 75 

xxiii. 13-16 302 

Judges i. 31, 32 271 

i. 33 260 

ii. 20-23 3° 2 

iii. 3 1 2ci 

iv. 6 240 

iv. 6-9 260 

iv. 11 267 

iv. 13- 255 

iv. 14- 245 

v. 19 254 

v. 20, 21 255 

v. 28 267 

vi. 3, seq 249 

viii. 18 240 

xiii. 15 87 

xvi. 3 205 

xvi. 31 217 

xviii. 28 269 

xx. 45 171 

Ruth ii. 3, 4 193 

ii. 14- 202 

1 Sam. vi 191 

x- 17 172 

xiii. 14. 177 

xiv 178 

xxii 182 

xxxi. 1-3 251 

xxxi. 8-10 251 



2i 



3 66 



TEXTS OF SCRIPTURE 



Page 

2 Sam. i. 19-25 251 

i. 21 252 

12-32 173 

ii. 18 261 

iii. 10 '. 301 

v. 11 271 

viii. 3 308 

xv. 23, 30 162 

xvii. 1 219 

xxi. 8-11 181 

xxi. 11-15 x 97 

xxiv. 2 301 

xxv. 1 136 

xxxi. 11-13 140 

1 Kings iii. 4-12 172 

• iv. 13 44 

v. 18 285 

vii. 10 125 

ix. 27 271 

xv. 20 262 

xv. 20 269 

xvi. 31 293 

xvii. 9 272 

xvii. 9-24 275 

xviii. 44 237 

xx. 10 337 

xxi. 23 252 

2 Kings ii. 24 179 

iv. 8-20. . . 249 

iv. 30 237 

v. 338 

vi- 13-17 339 

ix. 253 

ix. 36 252 

xv. 29 262 

xviii. 13 283 

xix. 35 208 

xx. 20 34 

xxiii. 16 175 

xxiii. 29-34 319 

xxv. 1-7 319 

1 Chron. xii. 8 261 

xii. 15 110 

xii. 32 246 

a Chron. xvi. 14 137, 140 

xxxv. 21 256 

Neh. iii. 26 , 124 

Job L 14, 15 307 

xxxi- 32 327 

xxxvii. 22 60 



Pag* 

Ps. xxix. 3-6 291 

xlii. 11 162 

xlviii. 2 121 

Ixxii. 16 288 

lxxix. 1, 4, 5 127 

Ixxxiii. 10 255 

lxxxix. 12 248 

civ. 16 290 

cxxii. 3 120 

cxxv. 2 120, 171 

cxxvi. 4 192 

cxliv. 12 123 

Cant. iv. 12, 15 280 

v. 15 280 

Isa. i. 7 41 

ii. 12, 13 290 

v. 2 118 

vi. 11, 12 70 

viii. 6 145 

x. 32 182 

xiii. 21 34 

xiv. 18 134 

xvii. 1-3 341 

xvii. 2 88 

xix. 5-7 192 

xxii. 16 139 

xxiv. 1-3 87 

xxiv. 3 49, 51 

xxiv. 12 88 

xxv. 11, 12 67 

xxvii. 10 88 

xxvii. 10, 11 54 

xxviii. 16 123 

xxxii. 13 243 

xxxii. 14 49, 88 

xxxiii. 8 49, 51 

xxxiii. 9 224, 23b 

xxxiii. 10 70 

xxxiv. 14 95 

xxxv. 2 236, 280 

xii. 15 201 

xlii. 15 38 

lx. 13 280 

lxiii. 1 72 

Jer. iv. 7 70 

iv. 26 61, 225 

vii. 32 144 

ix. 1, 2 180 

xii. 12 70, 181, 233, 312 

xix. 7, 8 144 

xxvi. 18 120 

xxxii. 43 259 

xlviii. 9 8c 



ILLUSTRATED 



Page 

Jer. xlviii. 12 86 

xlviii. 19 74 

xlviii. 24 72 

xlviii. 28 78 

xlviii. 32 77 

xlviii. 47 73 

xlix. 13 73 

xlix. 7-22 72 

Ezek. vi. 3-6 94, 102 

vi. 13 294 

vii. 2 66 

vii. 23 66, 182 

vii. 24 94, 128 

viii. 1, 2 152 

xii. 19 94, 312 

xii. 20 65 

xx vi. 3, 4, 12 274 

xxvi. 14 274 

xxvi. 21 19 

xx vii. 9 285 

xx vii. 18 352 

xxxi. 3, 8 290 

xxxix. 18 15 

xlvii. 15-17 304 

Dan. v. 7 170 

Hose a i. and ii 60 

i- 5 245 

v. 1 240 

Joel i. 6-12 50 

Amos i. 2 236 

ii. 3 201 

v. 5 i75 

Micah iii. 12 124 

Zeph. ii. 4 191 

ii. 4 203 

ii. 5 198, 210 

Zech. iv. 5 203 

ix. 6 195 

ix. 9 166, 167 

xii. 11 256 

Matt. iv. 5 123 

viii. 20 158 

xi. 21 106 

xi. 23 107 

xvi. 3 138 



OR EXPLAINED. 367 

Page 

Matt. xvi. 13-20 103 

xxi. 33 118 

xxiv 161 

xxvi. 36 157 

xxvii. 9.. 145 

xxvii. 28 170 

xxvii. 66 138 

Mark iv. 4 194 

vii. 26 , 272 

xiii. 1 123 

xiii. 2 161 

xiv. 70 261 

Luke iv. 26 272 

vi. 1 194 

vi. 12 159 

x. 25-37 163 

xi. 1 158 

xxi. 33 161 

xxi. 37 • 157 

xxiv. 12 138 

xxiv. 50 163 

John i. 46 261 

vii- 53 157 

ix- 7 145 

x. 3-5 46 

x. 23 123 

xi. 18 39 

xii. 1 166 

xiii. 26 202 

xviii. 2 159 

Acts i. 9-12 164 

vii. 11 349 

viii. 26 206 

ix. 1 341 

ix. 3 35* 

ix. 34 226 

x. 6 225 

x- 9 32, 159 

xii. 23 233 

xxi. 3 272 

xxvi. 13 351 

xxvii. 3 272 

1 Cor. xv. 8 341 

2 Cor. xi. 32 342 

Heb. i. 14 

Rev. xvi. 16 356 



INDEX. 



Abel-beth-Maachah, 269. 
Abila, 353. 

Abraham's sanctuary at Damascus, 351. 

Absalom's pillar, 146. 

Aceldama, 144. 

Achzib, 272. 

Acre, or Accho, 272. 

Adonis, river, 284 — Fountain, 292. 

Afineh, 88. 

Af ka, 292. 

Ai, 17s. 

Ain, 319. 

Ajalon, 174. 

Akir, see Ekron. 

Amanus, 281. 

Anazeh Arabs, 325. 

Anathoth, 180. 

Anti-Lebanon, 281. 

Aqueducts underground, 33. 

Arethusa, 307. 

Argob, 13, 24, 28, 30, 89, 91. 
Armageddon, 256. 
Ary, 61. 
Ascalon, 202. 
Ashdod, 194. 

Ashteroth-Karnaim, 11, 13, 43, 88. 

Athlit, 235. 

Atyl, 54. 

Auranites, 15. 

Ayun, 82. 

Azekah, 215. 

Baal, Temple of, 293 — name3 of, 294. 

Baal-Gad, 302. 

Baal-Hermon, 101. 

Bakah, 228. 

Barak, Victory of, 267. 

Baruk, 299. 

Bashan, 11 seq., 29, 35, 45, 84 — plain of, 60 
seq. — oaks of, 28, 86 — mountains, 28, 39, 
49, 62, 86. 

Batanea, 34 seq. 



Beeroth, 174. 
Beersheba, 301. 
Beit-Hanina, 169. 
Beit-Jibrin, 211. 
Bethany, 164. 
Bethel, 174. 
Beth-gamul, 69, 80. 
Beth-horon, 174. 
Beth-rehob, 268. 
Bethsaida, 107. 
Bethsaida- Julias, 105. 
Beth-shemesh, 216. 
Beth-Shan, 248. 
Beyrout, 282. 
Bozrah, 64. 
Bozrah of Edom, 72. 
Bukfeiya, 292. 
Burak, 25. 
Busr el-Hariry, 93. 
Byblus, 285. 

Ccele-Syria, 281. 
Caesarea-Palestina, 233. ' 
Caesarea-Philippi, 103. 
Capernaum, 107. 
Caravan travelling, 20. 
Carmel, 224, 235. 
Castellum-Peregrinorum, 235. 
Cedars, 289. 
Chorazin, 106. 

Christ's baptism, Scene of, no. 
Church of the Sepulchre, 130. 
Coenaculum, 140. 

Daborath, 245. 

Damascus, 336 — massacre of, 344 — holy 

places in, 349 — plain of, 20. 
Dan, 102, 302. 
Darom, 259. 

David, Tomb of, 140 — flight from Absalom, 

161 — battle with Goliath, 219. 
Dead Sea, no seq. 



370 

Deir Dubban, 212. 
Deir el-Kulah, 293. 
Deir el-Kamr, 297. 
Dor, 235. 

Druses, 46, 59, 294, 296. 
Duweireh, 93. 
Edrei, 93. 
Eglon, 209. 
Ehden, 288. 
Ekron, 190. 

Elah, Valley of, 215, 218. 

Eleutheropolis, 211. 

Elijah, sacrifice on Carmel, 263 seq. 

Emesa, 308. 

Endor, 247, 250. 

Engannim, 253. 

Esdraelon, 245. 

Galilee, Sea of, 105. 
Gath, 213. 
Gaulanitis, 15. 
Gaza, 204. 
Gebal, 285. 
Geba, 179. 

George, St., 188, 283. 
Gerar, Valley, 205. 
Geshurites, 14. 
Gethsemane, 157. 
Giants, 11, 30, 75. 
Gibeah of Saul, 181. 
Gibeon, 172. 
Giblites, 285. 
Gideon, Victory of, 249. 
Gilboa, 249, 252. 
Gimzo, 226. 
Goliath, Death of, 219. 

Halak, Mount, 302. 

Hamath, 304 — Entrance of, 282. 

Harod, Well of, 249. 

Hazar-enan, 317. 

Hazor, Site of, 266, 270. 

Hebran, 89. 

Helbon, 352. 

Helena, Tomb of, 151. 

Hendaj, Wady, 265. 

Hermon, 101. 

Hinnom, 120. 

Hit, 29. 

Hiyat, 29. 

Hor, Mount, 287, 310. 
Hospitality, Eastern, 59, 87. 
House-top, Prayer on, 32. 
Hums, Emesa, 308. 
Hunin, 268. 

Ijon, 269. 



INDEX. 

Issachar, Possessions of, 246. 

Jabneh, or Jabneel, 193. 
Jael, 268. 

James, Tomb of, 147. 

Jarmuth, 213. 

Jebeil, 285. 

Jebel el-Ghurby, 281. 

Jebel esh-Sheikh, Hermon, 281. 

Jebel esh-Shurky, 281. 

Jerusalem, 117 seq. — View of, from Olivet, 
118 — Walls of, 120 — Haram wall, 122- 
Tombs of, 

Jezreel, 252 — Valley of, 245, 248. 

Jezzin, 299. 

Jobar, 340. 

Jokneam, 256. 

Jonathan, Death of, 250. 

Jordan, 99 seq. — Depression of, 100 — Foun- 
tains, 102 — Lower, 108. 

Judgment, Valley of, 122. 

Kadisha, River, 287, 288. 
Kades, Lake, 309. 
Kanobin, Convent, 288. 
Kedesh-Naphtali, 265. 
Kenath, 41. 
Kerioth, 8a. 
Kidron, 118. 
Kings, Tombs of, 150. 
Kiratah, 92. 
Kirjath-jearim, 171. 
Kishon, 237. 
Kufr, 88. 

Kuleib, Mountain, 62. 
Kunawat, see Kenath. 
Kuryetein, 317. 

Lachish, 208. 
Ladder of Tyre, 272. 
Lazarus, Raising of, 166. 
Lebanon, 279 seq. — Ascent of, 287 — South- 
ern, 295. 
Lejah, see Argoh, 24, 92, 95. 
Lydda, 187 

Maacathites, 14. 
Magoras, River, 283, 293. 
Makkedah, 215. 
Mareshah, 212. 

Massacres at Deir el-Kamr, 297— at Da- 
mascus, 344 — see Appendix. 
Megiddo, Battle of, 253. 
Merj-'Ayun, see Ijon. 
Merom, Waters of, 104, 270. 
Michmash, 177. 
Migdal-gad, 200. 



INDEX. 



371 



Mizpeh, 170. 

Moab, Plain of, 76, 78— Cities of, 75, 78. 
Moreh, Hill of, 244, 246, 249. 
Moriah, 118. 
Mujeimir, 62. 
Mukhtara, 298. 

Nahr el-Kelb, 284. 
Nain, 247. 

Naphtali, Possessions of, 257 — History, 260 

— Mountains, 262. 
Neby Samwil, Mizpeh, 170. 
Nejran, 91. 
Nob, 181. 
Nobah, 42. 

Og, 12, 94. 

Olivet, 153 seq. 

Orontes, River, 304, 307, 309. 

Palmyra, 321 seq. 
Paul's conversion, 341, 350. 
Peraea, 163. 
Pharpar, 21. 
Philistia, 185 seq. 
Phoenicia, 271 seq. 
Pilgrim's bathing-place, 109. 
Prophecy fulfilled, 49, 70, 81. 
Prophets, Tombs of the, 148. 
Ptolemais, Acre, 272. 

Ramleh, 185. 

Rephaim, 11, 30, 83— Houses of, 85. 
Riblah, 318. 
Rimmon, 171. 

Saccaea, 36. 
Safed, 263. 
Samaria, 227. 
Sarepta, 275. 
Saron, see Sharon. 
Saul, Death of, 250. 
Sea, Dead, no. 
Sea of Galilee, 105. 
Sennacherib, 284. 
Sepulchre, Holy, 130. 
Shair, Wady, 227. 
Sharon, 189, 223. 
Shephelah, 186. 

Shepherds leading their flocks, 45. 
Shocoh, 219. 
Shuhba, 36. 



Shunem, 248. 

Sidon, 275. 

Siloam, 145. 

Sirion, 281. 

Sisera, Death of, 268. 

Solomon's ascent to temple, 154. 

Sorek, 191, 192, 216. 

Succoth, 109. 

Sudud, Zedad, 310. 

Suleim, 39. 

Sunnln, Jebel, 292. 

Surar, Wady, see Sorek. 

Suweideh, 54. 

Taanach, 254. 
Taarah, 93. 

Tabor, 239 — Ruins on, 243 — View from, 244 
Tadmor, see Palmyra, 2,-21, 330. 
Tammuz, 284, 292. 
Tel el-Kady, Dan, 101, 102. 
Tell es-Safieh, Gath, 214. 
Temple, site, 119 — pinnacle, 122 — destruc- 
tion foretold, 160. 
Tiglath-pileser, 269. 
Timnath, 216. 

Tombs, in Hauran, 36, 40 — in Jerusalem, 
134 — in Kedesh, 267 — in Sidon, 275— 
in Palmyra, 332. 

Tomb of our Lord, 149. 

Tophet, 143. 

Trachonitis, 15, 92. 

Transfiguration, Scene of, 103, 239. 

Triumphal entrance of Christ, 166. 

Tyre, 273. 

Tyropean, 119, 124. 

Via Dolorosa, 129. 
Virgin, Tomb of, 149. 

Wailing, place of, 126— for the dead, 38, 
Wetr, 62. 
White cape, 272. 
Wilderness of Judea, 163. 

Zaanaim, 267. 
Zacharias, Tomb of, 147. 
Zarephath, 272. 
Zedad, 310, 317. 
Zion, 119. 
Ziphron, 308. 
Zobah, 308. 
Zorah, 216. 



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Price 2s. 6d. 



LIFE IN THE PRIMEVAL WORLD : Founded on Meuniek's 
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The most Interesting and Valuable Work on the Holy Land ever Published. 

THE LAND AND THE BOOK ; or, Biblical Illustrations Drawn 
from the Manners and Customs, the Scenes and Scenery of the Holy Land. 
By the Eev. W. M. Thomson, D.D. Crown 8vo, 718 pages, with Twelve Coloured 
Illustrations and One Hundred and Twenty Woodcuts. Price 7s. 6d., cloth ; 
morocco, 15s. 

Eev. W. Lindsay Alexander, D.D., Edinburgh. — "As a guide to the Geo- 
graphy and Topography of Palestine in its present state, it surpasses nearly all 
the books of that kind I have read. " 



WANDERINGS OVER BIBLE LANDS AND SEAS. By the 
V V Author of ' ' Chronicles of the Schonberg-Cotta Family. " With Panorama 
of Jerusalem. Crown 8vo, cloth. Price 6s. 6d. 

Wesleyan Times. — " The book is full of interest; and the succession of Scrip- 
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her book very helpful to preachers, teachers, and parents." 



BASHAN'S GIANT CITIES AND SYRIA'S HOLY PLACES. 
By Professor Porter, Author of "Murray's Hand-book to Syria and 
Palestine." With Eight Beautiful Engravings. Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 
7s. 6d. 

Public Opinion. — "This is a very interesting book, and in many respects 
should be considered as a convincing testimony of the truth of the Bible." 



PATHWAYS AND ABIDING PLACES OF OUR LORD. 
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Eev. J. W. Wainwright, D.D. With Eight Tinted Plates. Extra foolscap 
8vo, cloth, gilt edges. Price 3s. 



THE RIVERS AND LAKES OE THE BIBLE. By the late 
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~}3jq?zmntZ8 of (MhxiBtwn ~^Woxh 

PASTOR'S SKETCHES ; or, Conversations with Anxious Inquirers 
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IGHT AT EVENING TIME ; or, Missionary Labour amongst 
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THE CHRISTIAN TEACHER IN SUNDAY SCHOOLS. By 
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J^icssqub from (Ureai ^cibcjs. 

A NEW BIOGRAPHICAL SERIES. 



ABOVE RUBIES ;" or, Memorials of Christian Gentlewomen. 
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3s. 6d. 



ANNALS OF INDUSTRY AND GENIUS. By Miss C. L. 
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THE EARLY CHOICE. A Book for Daughters. By the late 
Rev. W. K. Tweedie, D.D. With Six Steel Plates. Post 8vo, gilt edges. 
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THE SUNSHINE OF DOMESTIC LIFE; or, Sketches of 
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RECORDS OF NOBLE LIVES :— Sir Philip Sidney— Francis 
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DOING GOOD ; or, The Christian in Walks of Usefulness. Illus- 
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LIVES MADE SUBLIME BY FAITH AND WORKS. By 
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p BEAT MISSIONARIES. A Series of Biographies. By the Rev. 
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PIONEERS OF THE WORLD'S PROGRESS ; or, Illustrious 
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LIVING IN EARNEST. With Lessons and Incidents from the 
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LIVING TO PURPOSE ; or, Making the Best of Life. By Joseph 
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WILLING HEARTS AND READY HANDS ; or, The Labours 
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